


A Light By the Water’s Edge

by tm_writes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And I won’t apologize, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Both of them are searching for something, Child Loss, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief, Healing, Jaime is a cop, Jaimsa, Modern AU, Mourning, Past cheating (not main pairing), Redemption, Slow Burn, Small island life, Spuffy overtones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 182,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tm_writes/pseuds/tm_writes
Summary: Jaime Lannister is a detective in King's Landing, well established in his career until a scandal forces him to take a job on a remote island in the far North.Sansa Stark is recently divorced, her marriage crumbling after the death of her young son. It's only the promise of a year-long research project that gives her any spark of joy, as she travels North to try to find something worth living for.When these two lost souls end up on the same remote island, they'll be forced to confront their own painful pasts, discover new truths about each other and themselves, and try to determine whether they are strong enough to trust each other to find love again.Aided by a colourful cast of island locals, this is a romance story about finding love again after your entire world has fallen apart and being brave enough to grab that second chance and run with it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Sansa Stark, Jaime Lannister and Cersei (Past), Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark and Harry (Past)
Comments: 1445
Kudos: 446





	1. Prologue: Jaime’s Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ and welcome to another modern Jaimsa AU. 
> 
> Yes, I do realize I have 6 WIPs, but sometimes my muse just goes where it wants. I always, always finish my stories and while I didn't want to start another story without finishing one of my others, I don't want to rush those ones.
> 
> Now - onto this story.
> 
> A few warnings. This one will deal w/ Sansa losing a child, so it will be sad. There is also cheating in a past relationship (but that's over in the first chapter). 
> 
> The first two chapters, which are the backstories of Jaime and Sansa will be the hardest but I promise, it will get better for both of them. 
> 
> I hope you trust me on this journey. I'm so excited about this story and eager to share it!
> 
> Finally - this has to be said. To this wonderful world of fanfic readers and writers - you are all so amazing. I know we're all playing in the same sandbox and lately, the encouragement and support I've seen between everyone is so awesome. I know I write a lot, but I do try to read stories when they come up and give my comments as well. So thank you, truly, for all the support and love. This is a pretty awesome little world to be part of. 
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> T

* * *

Part 1: Jaime's Story

* * *

_ 1994: Lannisport (20 years old) _

His hands were sweaty as he waited with his two best friends for their names to be called. Jaime Lannister, along with his cousin Daven and his friend Addam Marbrand, had entered the Lannisport Police Academy together three long months ago. Now it was graduation day. All three of them were twenty, and the best of friends. 

Jaime looked around and saw the pride on the parents and siblings that had come to witness this event until his eyes landed on his father.

Tywin Lannister was here, it seemed, under protest.

He'd been vehemently opposed to Jaime joining the police force, claiming that Lannisters did not take jobs as public servants. For once in his life, Jaime had ignored his father's wrath and went ahead with pursuing his dream.

Jaime couldn't remember a time when he didn't want to help people. He was the kid that was always bringing home a stray cat or rescuing someone at school from a bully. He's spent many years of his life looking out for his little brother Tyrion, who was not only younger than him but a little person.

So when they'd taken their high school aptitude tests, and Jaime's analysis had indicated he had strong protective instincts, and a passion for serving the greater good, becoming a cop was a no brainer. The fact that his two best friends were with him only made the entire thing that much better. They'd had hard days when Jaime had thought nothing could be worth what they were being put through. But they'd had each other, and somehow, the three lifelong friends from the Westerlands were now standing here, ready to have their names called and shiny new badges handed to them.

Daven was called first, by virtue of his first name, then Jaime was next. He glanced back and, for a brief moment, locked eyes with his father. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a surge of pride there for him.

“Jaime Lannister.”

Grinning, Jaime clapped Addam on the back and then bounded up to the makeshift stage to shake the hand of the Chief of the Lannisport police. When his badge was placed in his hand, Jaime felt a fierce surge of accomplishment.

He'd done it.

He'd set his goal and achieved it.

Jaime knew it was just the first step in becoming a detective. He knew he’d spend the next few years as a beat cop, walking the streets or on patrol. Despite what his father thought, Jaime did have plans and ambition. He was just careful whom he shared his dreams with. Then all thoughts of the future fled as his fellow rookies embraced him, and the celebrations began.

* * *

_ 1998: King's Landing (24 years old) _

Jaime had lasted four years in Lannisport on the police force before the allure of something more drew him to King's Landing. While Daven was happy to stay where he was, Addam had applied with Jaime for a transfer to the capital.

Now they were here, living together in a shitty apartment and loving life. They worked like dogs, taking every shift they could, and learned from men like Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy about the added challenges of working in King's Landing.

Some areas of the capital gave Jaime a shiver to even walk into, and he never did so without backup. There were nights when he saw things that broke his heart; young women who were forced to sell themselves on the street, kids panhandling, and more and more street people ravaged by drugs or alcohol.

There was always a possibility that your routine patrol could go wrong, and Addam and Jaime were glad that they were assigned to work together more often than not. There was no one Jaime trusted as much as his best friend.

King’s Landing was vastly different from Lannisport. Not that their hometown didn't have its fair share of ugliness, but it was somehow darker, gritter and more in the capital.

Six months into the move, Jaime was on a routine night patrol on an area that just skirted Flea Bottom, when he noticed three young men surrounding a woman who appeared to try to get back to her car - a white Honda civic.

"Get away from me," she was snarling, and Jaime's feet picked up their pace.

No one had noticed him yet, and he knew he had to approach this situation carefully. If he startled them, they might hurt her, and from what he could see, she looked delicate - slim and blonde.

The three youths were so focused on trying to steal the woman's purse, that Jaime was able to all but walk up to them, calling for backup when he approached. He had two of them cuffed and on the ground when the third made a break for it. Jaime gave chase, tackling him and hauling him back to his friends, just as the blue and red lights of his fellow officers lit up the alley.

By the time the three of them were in the back of another cop's car, Jaime finally turned his attention back to the woman he'd rescued.

He'd expected hysteria, but instead, she gave him a cool, assessing gaze and cocked an elegant eyebrow.

"Well, you weren't what I expected when I went out tonight."

There was a purr to her voice, which was almost hypnotic, and Jaime felt drawn to her. She was even more beautiful up close, an appeared to be the same age as he was, at twenty-four. 

Coughing, he blushed, and stammered, "What are you doing here?" He glanced around and saw the little corner store that was open all night.

"I needed smokes," she said, taking a moment to light one.

The flick of the flame bathed her face in a golden hue, and Jaime felt struck dumb by this creature. He was well aware she was out of his league.

"It's dangerous."

She shrugged. "I can handle myself, officer … ?"

It was just hanging there - the invitation to start something with her.

"Jaime. Jaime Lannister."

Gods, he sounded like an idiot.

He saw her eyes flare with interest, and he wondered if it was because of his name or that he'd rescued her. Plenty of guys talked about the easy tail they'd gotten after helping some woman out of a tight spot.

Jaime wasn't like that. He'd been with two women his entire life, both when he was twenty-one, and hadn't been laid in over two years. That had to be why his cock was aching as she held out her hand.

"Well, Jaime, Jaime Lannister, I'm Cersei. Westerling. It seems we have two things in common."

Her smile was everything, and Jaime knew he was in danger of becoming way too smitten with this woman.

"Two?"

She winked.

"Dangerous situations and the West, Jaime."

Then she thrust a card at him and slid into her car.

"Thanks for the save, Jaime. Call me if you'd like to meet for coffee."

She roared away from the scene, leaving Jaime standing there utterly bewildered and confused. He glanced down at the card.

_Cersei Westerling_

_Acquisitions of Antiques_

_House of Tyrell_

It was embossed with gold letters, and Jaime knew the exact world that Cersei Westerling moved in.

Shaking his head, Jaime slipped the card in his pocket, knowing he'd never call her. Despite who his father was, that was a life Jaime had left behind. He was a cop, a servant for the people, dedicating his life to serve and protect.

Cersei was champagne and caviar, and although Jaime had a trust fund that could keep a woman like that happy, he hadn't touched it in years. He’d made his choice and was happy with his life. Cersei would just have to remain some untouchable dream.

Pushing her from his mind, Jaime turned back to give his report, knowing the paperwork on this arrest alone would take the rest of his night.

Thank god he had Addam. His friend would understand, and maybe this weekend, if they were lucky, they could go out to the local bar where all the cops hung out and tie one on, and Jaime could forget all about the beautiful blond with the startling green eyes that was out of his league.

* * *

_ 1999: King's Landing (25 years old) _

While Jaime might have had plans never to call Cersei, fate it seemed, had different ones.

The first time he ran into her again, he was literally on a run through the vast park that dominated the center of King's Landing.

Suddenly, he had an armful of woman, and those green eyes that had haunted him for the past two months were staring up at him.

Her lips quirked.

"Well, hello Jaime, Jaime Lannister," she teased him.

Jaime felt himself blush, but he also grinned.

"Hello, Ms. Westerling."

"So formal."

Jaime shrugged as he set her back on her feet.

He'd just turned twenty-five and was trying to outrun the memories of an epically lousy second date he'd been on the night before. The woman had simpered and preened and hadn't been able to choose to save her life through their entire date. She’d been a teacher, a year younger than him and he’d been bored out of his mind. Jaime had taken her home and then went back to his apartment to find Addam passed out watching _Armageddon_ for what must have been the tenth time.

He motioned to an empty park bench, where Cersei took a graceful seat.

"So, tell me, how is crime in the capital, officer? Are you keeping us all safe?"

Jaime shook his head. _What was it about her teasing that got him going_? Her voice went straight to his cock.

There was an edge to her, and he liked it. He bet she was a woman that would tell you where she wanted to eat. So he told her and found she was easy to talk to. She listened to him and joked at the right times. He’d found out they were the same age - that they in fact almost shared a birthday, but at twenty-five, Cersei seemed so much more worldly than him. 

They chatted for a while before she finally glanced at her watch.

"Damn, I have to go. Meeting a client," she said.

Jaime knew he was pouting. He'd been having a great time.

She gave him a wink.

"Maybe you'll man up and call me for real this time, Jaime."

Then she was gone, leaving him sitting there pondering her words.

Was she serious?

Did she want something with him?

Should he call her?

Was he an idiot for even starting something with a woman like her?

It took two weeks before he worked up the courage to phone her and ask her for coffee. She declined and said she deserved dinner.

Jaime was smitten.

This carried on for the next six months where Jaime would phone to ask her to do something, and whatever he offered, she countered with a different suggestion.

He loved it.

She was wild and passionate and demanding. Being with Cersei was like standing too close to a flame - Jaime knew he might get burned, but he was more than willing to take the chance. He was falling hard and fast for this intriguing woman.

They had been sleeping together since that night after their first dinner. The sex was incredible but it wasn’t the only reason he was captivated by Cersei.

Jaime had thought that sleeping together had made them exclusive, he found out how mistaken he was when he called to make a date with Cersei and found out she was going to a gala event.

With another man. A man a few years older than them, that ran in the same circles Cersei did. Circles Jaime had left behind. 

He'd yelled.

He’d ranted.

He’d demanded that they be exclusive.

She'd looked at him with pity and called him too good for this world, too good for her, and then told him if he couldn't be mature about this, they'd have to end what they had.

So end it he had. He’d hung up, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Jaime didn't call her for a month, seething at how used and stupid he felt.

Was he an idiot?

He’d thought they had been building to something amazing. But apparently he’d been nothing more than just another man to fool around with. 

When he ran into her again, weeks later, in the park on his run, she started to sob, and Jaime found himself offering her comfort.

She said she had abandonment issues, with her father leaving her and her mother.

She claimed she didn't know how to be in a relationship.

She said she wanted financial security for herself.

But she'd missed him. And she’d messed up. This past month had been horrible.

Her tears cut straight through any defences he had.

That was all it had taken for Jaime to take her back. She swore this time would be different - that they were together, this time exclusively, and for a time, Jaime believed her.

* * *

_ 2000: King's Landing (26 years old) _

Their next huge fight came when Jaime refused to attend the annual gala ball in King's Landing, of which his father was a huge sponsor of.

It was the ball that had broken them up last time when Cersei had gone with another man, and Jaime had been left wrecked.

"I just don't understand," she'd snarled at him.

They were standing in her luxury apartment, as she refused to come to the place he shared with Addam.

"You're a fucking Lannister. Your father is Tywin. Jaime, why do you have to do what you do?” She hated that he was a cop. And a beat cop at that. 

He felt weary, way older than his twenty-six years.

He liked being a cop. Sure, while the detective thing hadn't worked out yet, Jaime told himself it was because he still had more to learn in his current job.

In truth, Cersei was a demanding woman, and in between his regular job, and catering to her needs, plus trying to hit up the gym and stay in shape, Jaime just didn't have the time.

He rubbed at his eyes, wearily.

"Cersei, we've been over this. I'm out of the family business. I don't have anything to do with it. I barely even speak with my father."

"But why?"

Jaime realized at that moment that the woman he was madly in love with would never get _him_.

He understood her. He'd made a point of getting to know Cersei Westerling.

To the world she was demanding, cold, calculate and ambitious.

But alone?

She could be sweet and caring. She had a wicked sense of humour, and the sex was out of this world phenomenal.

She liked to be in charge, and Jaime didn't mind for the most part. If she was happy, he didn't care where they ate or how she dressed him.

He was a natural peacemaker – even if that meant making peace with himself to keep her happy.

But now, when he was pushed?

Becoming a cop had been the one thing that Jaime had stood up to his father about in his entire life. And he wasn't giving it up.

"Cersei, drop it," he said, a hard edge to his voice that he'd never used with her before.

"Drop it?" she shrieked. "I'm not going to drop it, Jaime. Why the fuck do you think I'm with you? It's not because I want to date a fucking cop. Jesus, wake up. You're a fucking Lannister. If you give up this silly profession and take your rightful place as your father's heir, we can finally get on with our life."

Jaime had been hinting at moving in together for the past few months since he'd thought things were going so well. But now, it felt like his entire world had just come crashing down around him.

"You're only with me for who my father is?" he asked, anger making his voice low and taunt.

As if she'd realized she'd gone too far, she tried to backtrack. But the damage was done, and within six weeks, they were done. Again.

When Addam finally sat Jaime down at the pub, a week after their last epic fight, it had taken several beers, and a few whiskey shots before Jaime finally let the whole sordid truth about Cersei out.

Addam was the only person in Jaime's life, other than Daven, that truly understood how difficult it had been for Jaime to break away from his father and his endless expectations.

"Jai, I'm gonna be straight with you," Addam said, as drunk as Jaime was. "Cersei Westerling is a first-class bitch. Hot as can be, sure, and I'd bet my last paycheck she's a tiger in the sack, but dude, she's evil. Like a straight up mega cow."

"She's not that bad," Jaime protested, weakly.

The words sounded insincere, even to him.

Jaime had always known precisely what Cersei was, but he'd made excuses for her. He'd been so taken with her, allowing himself to fall hard and fast for her. For a time, he'd even deluded himself into thinking that he'd finally found a woman that had wanted him for him – not for Jaime Lannister, son of the wealthiest man in Westeros.

Others from their precinct joined in, and soon, even with his protests, Jaime heard all about how none of his fellow officers liked Cersei.

"You can do better," was a refrain he'd heard all night long.

When her text came a few months later, Jaime was busy studying for his exam to become a sergeant. He remembered what his friends had said about Cersei – that she was a user, and she'd never settle for being married to a cop and deleted her message without replying.

Bookwork had never been his forte, but he was determined to take this next step in his career. He was twenty-six and wanted something good out of his life. Cersei was a distraction he just didn’t need right now.

Arthur Dayne had recently been made a detective and had become a mentor to Jaime. He too was single, and along with Addam, the three of them cut a swath through King's Landing when they needed to blow off steam.

Jaime avoided all relationships, still too bitter and too hurt from what had happened with Cersei, and when he passed his exam, even his father came to town to celebrate.

He might not have the woman that he loved, for Jaime did not delude himself about his feelings for Cersei, but his career was on track, and he had friends. Life for Jaime Lannister was good, and he was determined it would remain that way.

* * *

_ 2001: Lannisport (27 years old) _

Jaime was home for a two-week vacation in the summer a year after he and Cersei had broken up for the final time, when he walked into his father's study and overhead the Great Lion speaking to his friend.

"Of course, Steffon, we'd be delighted to attend. Give your eldest son my warmest congratulations. The Westering family is well established in our region, and I've heard nothing but good things about Cersei."

Jaime froze, his stomach doing somersaults. Surely he'd misheard.

Steffon and Tywin had been friends since they were children, and though each man had sons, their offspring had never gotten along. Robert was three years older than Jaime and had always been a bit of a bully. Stannis was quiet and reserved, while Renly was too young for Jaime to bother getting to know.

Being a cop in King's Landing, Jaime had heard rumours about Robert Baratheon. The man was heir to his father's vast shipping company but was often found in casinos or strip clubs. Somehow, scandal never stuck to Robert, although there were always pesky rumours about how much the big man loved to dally with strippers.

"Father?" Jaime asked, hating how weak his voice sounded. He'd known that Cersei was a social climber; it was why they'd broken up. But he'd never expected this.

"What was that?"

Tywin appeared distracted, not bothering to notice the distress his eldest son was in.

"Oh, that was Steffon. It seems his son is doing his duty and finally marrying – Cersei Westerling. It is an excellent match. Their wedding is happening at the end of summer, down at Storm's End. I've RSVP'd for all of us."

Fortunately for Jaime, the one person who did love him unconditionally was also home, and Tyrion kept Jaime drunk in a stupor for a week, as Jaime at turns raged and then wept that the woman he loved was marrying someone else.

And not just anyone – a man that was a buffoon.

 _How could she marry a man like Robert?_ Jaime thought, again and again. Was she that desperate to climb the social ladder?

By the time the 'wedding of the decade' had rolled around, Jaime was sick and tired of seeing pictures of Robert and Cersei everywhere and volunteered for a month-long exchange with some officers in the far North that were dealing with increased drug trafficking in their region.

He'd told his father this was the assignment he needed to advance his career, and Tywin simply sighed. The Great Lion had confessed that he was pleasantly surprised with how dedicated Jaime was to his chosen profession, and said that he'd make his apologies to the Baratheon's that Jaime couldn’t attend the wedding.

Jaime spent Cersei's wedding getting blind drunk with Officer Benjen Stark and Detective Joer Mormont in Moletown. A single text from Tyrion _It is done,_ and Jaime felt like his entire future was gone.

He woke the next morning with a wicked hangover, a determination to do better, and a spark in his belly to make detective by the time he turned thirty. Any hope he had at reconciliation with Cersei were now gone. She'd made her choice, and it wasn't him.

It was never, ever him.

* * *

_ 2003: King's Landing (29 years old) _

The ceremony was small – the smallest one yet in his career. It was only Addam and Jaime that had taken and passed their detective exams, but when they were finally handed their new badges, Jaime knew this was a moment to be proud of.

Both his father and brother had come to the capital to attend the small ceremony, and achieving this, before he was thirty, well, Jaime finally saw nothing but pride on his father's face.

The past two years, Jaime had put his head down, taken every shit assignment handed to him, and steadily impressed his superiors.

Arthur Dayne had proven to be a godsend, seeming to dedicate all his spare time to ensuring both men made the grade so that they could join their other esteemed colleagues as detectives in the precinct.

Returning from the North, Jaime had stopped drinking, stopped sleeping with random women, and focused on himself. He did occasionally date, although nothing ever went past one or two dates, and lived almost like a monk. He'd grown up and now found himself connecting with his father in a way that he never had in his life.

Jaime had never told his father about his liaison with Cersei, although he had a suspicion that Tyrion had. His little brother was poised to inherit the company that their father had worked so hard to build, and whenever Jaime was home, Tywin never had the Baratheon's the Casterly Rock.

Jaime was mostly happy. Becoming a detective had been the culmination of a lifelong dream, and if his love life was pathetically sparse, well, Jaime figured he had time.

He was determined not to make the same mistakes as he had in the past.

Being single wasn't the worst way to go through life, and he was mostly fulfilled.

If he still avoided all talk or mention about Cersei, he figured that was only normal, and pushed her, and her new husband and the two children they were now rumoured to have from his mind.

That woman was no longer his – if she ever had been, and Jaime vowed to give the next woman he met a real chance.

* * *

_ 2005: King's Landing (31 years old) _

Jaime tugged at the bowtie of the tuxedo had was wearing. Being a Lannister meant he'd been fitted for his first one when he'd been fourteen. It wasn't something he was unfamiliar with, but he was grousing that his father had talked him into attending this event on behalf of their family.

"I can't get away, Jaime. You'll go in my stead," Tywin had said, refusing to take no for an answer.

Since they were closer than they'd ever been, Jaime had agreed, thinking it was a far ways off and that he would most likely find some excuse not to go.

But that hadn't happened, especially when his father had sent the tux to his apartment with a stern reminder of what was expected of him.

For the most part, Jaime didn't mind these events for the few times he had to go over the years. His father mostly spared him, and Jaime was grateful.

He looked around the elegant penthouse apartment. It was a far cry from the shitty apartment where he and Addam had first lived when they'd come to King's Landing seven years ago. Tywin had insisted, saying he wouldn't have his son living in 'squalor' and Jaime had to admit, it was lovely.

Of course, the move had been necessitated when Addam had gotten himself engaged, and he and his soon to be wife moved out to the suburbs.

Jaime's phone buzzed, and he knew it was the car service. He took one more look at himself, noting he did cut a dashing figure, and then shrugged. He'd learned long ago just how far looks went. They were surface-level only.

Fifteen minutes later, the sleek town car pulled up outside the King's Landing Art Gallery, where the event was being hosted. There was a red carpet and a line of paparazzi, who, for some reason, were taken with Jaime.

His nickname was the Golden Detective, and no one knew if that was because Tywin was rich or Jaime's hair was so perfectly blond. Either way, it annoyed the hell out of him, and one of the main reasons he avoided this shit.

The guys in the bullpen razzed him for days when he appeared on gossip magazines. Some of the fuckers had even taken to cutting his picture out, and they had a whole board with all the beautiful women Jaime had escorted to such events. Almost no one knew he'd never slept with any of them.

In fact, the closest Jaime had come to having a girlfriend had been a teacher he'd dated a year ago – but she soon told him that his lifestyle was 'overwhelming' and she needed someone quieter.

She was now engaged to his best friend, and though there was a twinge of envy at what his best friend had, Jaime knew that Addam was happy. He didn't begrudge them their happiness, just wondered why life was so determined that he couldn't find the love of his life.

He'd been circulating the central atrium for a while, nursing the single glass of cheap champagne, when he spotted her.

As cliché as it sounded, the seas parted. In this case, the people, and she was just --- there.

Cersei Westerling Baratheon. The woman that had shattered his heart.

Jaime wished he could say she looked older, or less beautiful.

But she took his breath away.

Just as he was working up the courage to speak with her, Robert appeared, shoving a meaty hand along her back. It was subtle, but Jaime saw her shudder. She leaned away from her husband, even as the man appeared to manhandle her. Robert treated her like she was a trophy, and bitterly, Jaime wondered if the life Cersei had so desperately wanted was everything she'd thought it would be. After all, he'd love her, but she'd tossed him over for that.

Turning away, Jaime sought out the people he needed to speak to before he could leave. He was done, and an hour later, he was walking fast towards the exit when he heard his name called.

It was her.

He stopped and debated with himself.

They hadn't spoken in five years.

What could they possibly have to say to one another?

And more, he always ended up so hurt whenever she inevitably ended things.

He took a step away from her. She called his name again, and there was a hint of vulnerability in her voice - that had Jaime turning.

"Cersei," he said when she was standing before him.

"Hello, Jaime, Jaime Lannister," she said, green eyes alight.

At that moment, Jaime felt a million years old; weary and tired of her games.

"Don't. We're not those people anymore, Cersei. You made sure of that."

He knew his barb landed true when the quick anger crossed her face.

"So, we can't even be friends?"

"We were never friends, Cers. At least, for me, it always meant more."

Jaime knew he sounded pathetic, but he didn't quite care. He was still stung by how things had ended between them.

"You can't seriously still be angry with me, Jaime. You knew what I wanted. You had a chance."

It was an old argument and one they'd had every day for six weeks. To keep Cersei, all he'd had to do was give up the career he'd loved and take his place as Tywin's heir. When he refused, she'd declared then at an impasse and their relationship had ended. Clearly to make room for her to marry a man like Robert, who moved in the circles Jaime chose not too.

"What do you want?" he asked instead.

He couldn't help the bitterness that seeped in. This woman had broken him in a way he hadn't fully appreciated before now.

She reached out and touched his arm briefly, but it burned.

Gods, he still wanted her, hating himself.

She was a married woman—a mother.

"I'm sorry," she said, simply, and with sincerity.

"For what?"

She sighed and ran a hand through her golden hair. She was more beautiful than ever.

"For hurting you. I loved you, Jaime. I just needed more."

"Then, that isn't love."

Her eyes flashed.

"Don't tell me what love is, or to whom my heart belongs. I might have married to advance my social standing, Jaime, but he's never had my heart."

The implication was clear.

Against every instinct he had, hope flared inside Jaime.

He knew this was wrong.

He knew that he should walk away.

But gods, it was like she had him under a spell.

She snapped her fingers, and he came running.

She looked away when their stare became too intense.

"You don't know what type of man he is, Jaime," she said, barely audible.

Jaime had spent six months working domestic abuse cases; he'd seen that look before. He stepped closer to her, the first time he'd done so.

"Does he hurt you?" he demanded.

She wiped away a tear.

"Don't…. I can't…" she said. "I have to go back, but sometimes, I take the children to the park. Where you used to run. I have good memories there, Jaime."

Then she was gone, a swirl of red and gold and left standing there, with nothing but his memories and confusion a nauseating mixture churning in his guts.

He, at turns, hated her and loved her. And now the thought that she was a victim of her husband?

Jaime wanted to smash Robert's face in. He knew he should report it – start a file. Even if nothing came of it, it would be documented for the future.

But he also knew that he'd be violating Cersei's trust, and despite how much she had hurt him, he wouldn't cross that line. Instead, he turned and fled from the gala, chased by regrets and an impotent rage that he hadn't been able to protect the woman he loved.

* * *

_ 2006: King's Landing (32 years old) _

It happened gradually, almost without him realizing it – him letting Cersei back into his life.

Jaime began to run in the park soon after he'd seen Cersei at the gala. He’d avoided it for the past few years, when they’d broken up.

But within a month of the gala, as promised, she was there with her children, a small toddler named Joffrey and a one-year-old daughter named Myrcella.

Jaime, who'd always wanted a family, was at first unsure, but she'd said the kids wouldn't remember, and besides, Robert never paid them any attention.

That made Jaime angry. What type of man didn't pay attention to his own children?

Eventually, the wintery rain forced them indoors, and they started meeting, with the children, for lunch at different cafes and restaurants around the capital. Jaime told himself he was there as friend to her and nothing more – she let things slip about Robert's abuse and had shown him bruises on her arm.

Jaime tried to get her to report him, but she waved a hand and said she couldn't – that no one would believe her, and it was her word against his.

There were still the reports of Robert sleeping around, and when Cersei failed to show for one of their meetings, Jaime was almost beside himself with worry.

It took a month for her to reappear, and just after the news had broken that Robert was running for Mayor of King's Landing and that the happy couple was expecting their third child.

When she'd found him in the park, Jaime had raged at her.

"I thought you hated him. How could you?" he'd snarled.

She snapped back, all fire and heat.

"It is what I am Jaime. It is why you love me, even as you loath me. I am an ambitious woman and one who knows her worth. A third child almost guarantees that Robert becomes Mayor. It shows stability and that we love each other."

"Do you ever feel like a whore, spreading your legs for him?"

She'd slapped him, and he'd known he deserved it.

"He's my husband."

"He's a pig that's fucking hookers, Cers. Even you are that stupid." Then Jaime paled. "Oh my god, please tell me you got tested," he said, horror on his features.

She stuck her chin in the air.

"Of course, I did. I'm not an idiot. The man is a drunk, Jaime. A philandering wastrel that is unfit for almost anything he does. But for some reason, people love him."

He'd given her a sad shake of his head.

"I'm sorry, Cers. I just … I can't. Good luck."

Jaime had nothing more to say and retreated after that. It was too hard to see her pregnant with her third child, which wasn't his, and would never be his. For a time, he'd deluded himself, playing with Joff and Cella. But they weren't his, and neither was Cersei.

Then he turned and walked out of her life again, heart once again shattered.

* * *

_ 2009: Casterly Rock (35 years old) _

Jaime was home again for a month this time in the summer, when his father announced in his second week there, the arrival of the Baratheon family. As predicted, the birth of Cersei and Robert's second son, and third child, Tommen, had been all that was needed to give the man the votes to be named the next Mayor of King's Landing.

Jaime had finally found someone to date, a woman named Ella that was a doctor. He'd met her when his partner, Arthur, had been shot, and they'd been dating for several months now.

She was smart, funny and loved hiking and being active. She was thirty years old and Jaime liked her. On their off days, which they rarely got together, they spent time exploring outdoor sports around King's Landing. When Jaime had mentioned he was going home to the Rock, Ella had asked if he'd wanted company.

The best part of their relationship was, Jaime knew if he said no, she wouldn't pout or be mad. She had her own insane career, loads of friends, hobbies and things to keep her busy.

But for the first time since Cersei, Jaime had thought it would be nice to have someone there with him when he was at the Rock.

She'd come for the first week, and Tywin had seemed to warm to her by the end. Ella had gone back to Kings Landing at the end of the week, while Jaime stayed in at the Rock. Jaime didn't see wedding bells even if he was soon on the downward slide to forty. Ella was --- sweet and comfortable, but he just couldn't see himself marrying her.

And that was all but confirmed when Cersei arrived at the Rock. 

It only took one look at Cersei for Jaime to know he'd been deluding himself. The woman swept into his family's palatial home like some queen, barking out orders and herding her three towheaded children, all while Robert seemed to stumble in behind her.

Their eyes met, and the heat was still there. This was the woman that held his heart. He was a fool, but weren’t all men fools when they were in love?

Resigned, Jaime phoned Ella that night and gently broke it off with her. He knew he could never be with Cersei, but he would also never really be available for another woman. He hated how his life seemed to be so miserably tied to hers, but tied it was. He could no longer lie to himself.

Three nights later, when Robert passed out drunk on a lounge chair, Jaime shook his head in disgust.

"Tell me it's worth it," he sneered at her.

She tossed back her drink and shrugged.

"As opposed to what? Being the wife of a detective?"

"It's not like I'm a fucking pauper, Cers," Jaime spat and pushed himself out of his chair, determined to get away from her.

She followed him, of course. Both their tempers were raging.

In hindsight, Jaime realized he probably shouldn't have stalked down the hallway towards his room, his ex-lover hot on his heels. But his mad was up, and he wasn't thinking straight.

She grabbed his arm and spun him around.

"Don't be so high and mighty, Jaime. I've seen the lust in your eyes. You want me, even though I'm married."

He wished he could deny it, but it was the truth. Even now, knowing what she was, knowing how wrong this was, he wanted her. It was a sickness, this thing between them.

Then she moved and was pressing herself against him, rubbing against him.

"It's been almost three years. Not since he got me pregnant with Tommen," she whispered.

Perhaps a stronger man would have said no, but Jaime was not a stronger man. He’d denied himself her for so long, and now she was just here, before him. She was offereing him her body, and nothing else.

So he captured her lips and carried her into his room, knowing as he closed the door that he was damning them both and unable to stop himself from doing it.

He'd been lonely for so long, missing her for such a time, and he ached to touch her, taste her, and feast on her. He knew it was wrong and that if they were caught, his entire world would be destroyed.

But he just didn't care anymore. She was here, and she was in his arms, and for one night, she would be his.

If this meant he was damned, then so be it.

* * *

_ 2010-2017: King's Landing (36- 43 years old) _

The truth was that they actually didn't screw that much in the eight years their illicit affair carried on, and Jaime used that to justify why it went on for so long.

Perhaps three times a year, they'd somehow meet, often in a different location than their hometown and find a way to steal a few days together.

Their fame and celebrity made it almost impossible for them to meet up, and when they did, she always seemed to have her youngest son with her.

At first, Jaime had rationalized their affair, knowing that Robert had been cheating on her for years – openly and with escorts.

Then he'd simply stopped thinking about it when he realized that nothing could come of it. If he thought about it too long, he felt dirty and miserable, and the only time he didn't was when he was in her arms.

He knew that made him an awful person, but he just couldn't stop.

Cersei had confessed she'd had her tubes tied when Tommen had been born, and she swore that Robert never touched her anymore.

And Jaime never once imagined she'd be stupid, crazy, or mean enough to be fucking more than one man that wasn't her husband. She was cheating on Robert with him because of what they felt for each other. Or that’s what he told him – what he wanted to believe. That they were in love. 

Jaime knew that control was a game for Cersei – he'd long ago lost his blinders, or so he thought, when it came to her and what she'd do to keep control.

Lately, he'd felt it even harder to get her attention. He knew that Robert was embroiled with some scandal and that her eldest, Joff, was acting out.

Jaime had put her disinterest in him down to how busy their lives were, and that they had, in some way or another, been together even longer than her and Robert.

When he got her text, to meet him at a hotel in downtown King's Landing, Jaime was happily surprised. They so rarely did this, refusing to give in to the cliché of carrying on their affair the way others did.

They'd told themselves and each other that they'd loved each other and that her marriage was just political. They were forty-three and though the affair left a bitter taste in Jaime’s mouth he knew he wasn’t strong enough to end it. A part of Cersei was better than nothing. 

Jaime was grinning, as he slid the key card into the door and it snicked open. His lover hadn't spared any expense, and he was looking forward to losing himself in her arms, if only for a few hours.

It was only upon padding further into the suite, across the soft carpet that swallowed all noise, did Jaime finally realize what he was hearing.

Grunts.

Slaps.

Pants.

Moans.

Having heard them all before, and from her, Jaime knew what he'd see when he pushed open the door to the bedroom.

And still, he was shocked.

His lover, the woman he'd devoted almost his half hi life too, was being pounded from behind, her ass slapped as she liked, as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

Jaime had no idea who the guy fucking her was, but he had to give Cers credit for variety. He was a hairy fucker, with tats and a dirty mouth, as he called her all sorts of nasty names.

Transfixed, Jaime could only watch as she started to quiver and then screamed out, "EURON," as that fucker pounded into her, before grunting and coming in a shudder.

The man, Euron, Jaime presumed, collapsed on top of Cersei.

"Such a fierce little bitch," he said affectionately, kissing her between her shoulder blades.

Jaime knew this wasn't the first time they'd been together – most likely not even the second. The only time Cers allowed affection was after she'd come and they were too familiar with one another for this to be some random hook up on her behalf.

"At least tell me he's wrapped his dick, lover," Jaime drawled, startling the two of them.

Jaime gave them credit – they didn't attempt to hide. In fact, Euron pulled out of Cersei, and fisted the condom, tying it off. He was older than they were, mid forties and there was something in his eyes that was unsettling. 

Thank fuck for small mercies, Jaime, thought, disgust making him feel like he might pass out. 

He took one look at Cersei and shook his head. She finally looked her age - over forty and cheap. 

He knew what they had done, and that their affair had been wrong. But he'd done it because he'd loved her, and thought she'd love him.

But this – this was just fucking.

"We're done," he said and knew he meant it. For the first time since he’d met her, Jaime knew her was done with her and her games. 

Anything left, anything he might have felt for her had just died.

Her high heel hit him first, and he didn't stop until she was there, on his back, clawing at him.

"Fuck you, Jaime. You think you can walk away from me. You're just as bad as me."

He tried to shake her off, but she was like a monkey, clinging to him. Finally, Euron helped, holding a naked Cersei that was spitting mad.

"I'm not better than you. I'm worse. I knew this was wrong. But I fucking loved you, Cersei." Jaime shot a look of pure disgust to Euron. "That isn't love."

Her laugh was bitter.

"Gods, you're an idiot. Fuck, Jaime. Love doesn't exist. It's a fucking fairy tale. Grow the fuck up."

Jaime felt his heart shatter, but his face remained in a disgusted sneer.

"You're no better than the whores Robert fucks. But at least they're honest about it."

Her hand cracked his face, and he allowed her that one. He caught it again when she tried a second time.

"We're done."

He turned to leave, as Euron called for him. He turned back and saw the man hand him his phone, which he must have dropped. That was it. No apology. Nothing.

As Jaime reached the door, Cersei's words chased him out of the suite.

"I'll fucking destroy you, Jaime. No one walks away from me."

Despite him thinking it was mostly an empty threat, there was a shiver of fear down Jaime's spine.

He'd fucked up. Badly. And now, he was afraid of what price he might have to pay for his indiscretion, for his loving a woman that could utterly obliterate him and the life he’d worked so hard to build.

* * *

_ 2018: Casterly Rock/King's Landing (44 years old) _

"It's bullshit," Jaime spat, ensconced in his father's study at their family home.

True to her word, Cersei had indeed tried to destroy him.

Within a month of him discovering her in that hotel room with Euron Greyjoy, an anonymous 'tip' had come into his precinct that there was a dirty cop on the force that was working with Euron Greyjoy and taking kickbacks to allow him to smuggle drugs in and out of Westeros.

Of course, somehow, there was a picture of Euron and him – when Euron had handed Jaime his phone. The problem was, someone had photoshopped it to make it look like Jaime was taking a payoff.

The scandal had been enormous. Jaime had been placed on administrative leave while IA investigated. His father had been enraged, wondering what he'd done and demanded Jaime come home to discuss matters and come up with a strategy.

His fellow cops had barely even looked at him, and the only two people Jaime felt like he had on his side were Addam and Arthur. Both of them had said there was no way that Jaime would do something like this.

"I've never taken a payoff in my life," Jaime continued. He felt like he was ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"No, just another man's wife," Tywin bellowed, slamming his fist down on the desk.

Jaime leaned forward. "Robert fucks anything in a skirt. Cersei and I were together, long before he came along."

Tywin waved a hand, disappointed etched on his face.

"Do not try to justify your actions to me. It was wrong, Jaime. Own that. Now that woman is hell-bent on destroying you. Go. Let me clean up this mess," his father said, dismissing him.

It stung to hear those words, even though they were the truth.

Jaime's actions were indefensible. He's slept with a married woman. He'd put himself in this position. He'd always know Cersei was volatile and vindictive. Now he was simply paying the price for daring to have something that was never his in the first place.

It took months for the scandal to die down, only eclipsed when it turned out the Mayor and Euron were working together – it made more sense than Jaime being dirty since the Baratheon's were in shipping along with Euron.

And Jaime hadn't needed the money.

For a time, Jaime thought that might be it – that it was over. He was back at work, and trying to rebuild the trust he’d seemingly lost, even though it had all been lies.

Then the news broke that Euron and Cersei were having an affair, along with her and Jaime.

Jaime had no idea who leaked that information, but it didn't help his case, and he hid at the Rock, staggered by how his entire world was crumbling.

Cersei had retaliated against Robert’s role in the smuggling, by releasing a truly staggering list of women her husband had fucked in the past decade.

Robert had been forced to resign his position as Mayor, Cersei had filed for divorce, and full custody of the children and Euron was arrested on charges of drug smuggling. It turned out that one of the beat cops, a Kettleblack, had been the dirty cop on both Robert's and Euron's payroll.

But by then, it was too late for Jaime.

The damage had been done.

His father's lawyers had managed to argue defamation of Jaime's character since he had never been dirty.

Still, the department had lost confidence in Jaime and felt his image was too detrimental for the department. There was no getting around the affair and with the Mayor’s wife no less.

"Perhaps if you were to go somewhere less --- in the public eye," they'd suggested.

"They want me to go to Skene?" Jaime said, incredulous.

It was a tiny island, North of Skagos, in the Shivering Sea. There were barely 1000 full-time residents, more sheep than people and only one village on the entire island. A ferry came once a week to the island from Skagos, bringing supplies and people. Most who lived there didn't even have cars, preferring to walk or use little mopeds or scooters or ATVs to get around the island.

"What would I possibly do there?" Jaime asked.

Jaime's Captain, Barristan Selmy, shrugged.

"The main constable just retired. Right now, there are two deputies --- uhhhh a Brienne Tarth and a Podrick Payne. You'd be their boss, Jaime."

Jaime's jaw dropped, then he rubbed his eyes.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Arthur gave him a sympathetic look.

"It's not forever, Jaime. A couple of years. Do some good, earn back the department's trust."

"Is this seriously happening?" Jaime muttered, unable to believe how unbelievably fucked his life was.

Arthur's sad little nod confirmed it was. Jaime spent the rest of the afternoon packing up his stuff and saying goodbye to his friends. Addam met him at the pub, which they rarely did these days, seeing how he had a young son at home and another on the way.

"Fuck, Jai, I'm sorry," his best friend said.

Jaime waved it away. "Don't. It's my fault."

To his credit, Addam didn't say how toxic and awful Cersei was. Instead, they just sat there, drinking a beer together.

"It's not forever, though. You'll get through it and come back, right?"

Jaime nodded morosely. Right now, his life felt like it was rock bottom. He was being forced to leave his friends, his family, and his fucking job, with no guarantees this would salvage his career.

Half an hour later, Jaime hugged Addam and promised to stay in touch, before he headed home, to pack up his apartment and begin to make his way North, to Skene. There he would take over the policing duties for the island at the edge of the world, that the rest of Westeros had all but forgotten, and Jaime wished he could too.

It was an apt punishment for a man like him, and he could only hope that there was something of interest there, or else this would be the longest few years of his entire life. He had no hope that he'd find anything worthwhile there – he'd long ago given up hope that there was a woman out there that might love him for him.

When he had his boxes and bags packed a few days later, Jaime didn't even bother to look back as he closed the door on this life and prepared to start his new one in the North, away from everything and everyone he'd ever loved.


	2. Prologue: Sansa’s Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you for all who took a chance on this story - definitely a bit angstier than I'm used to.
> 
> As promised, Sansa's story. I won't lie - this one is tough.
> 
> Trigger warning for child death.

* * *

Part 2: Sansa's Story

* * *

_ 2010: Oldtown (18 years old) _

Sansa grinned as she stepped off the plane in Oldtown, clutching her carryon and her purse to her chest. She was finally here, ready to start her university career at the premier university in all of Westeros – The Citadel. Only the very best of the best were admitted each year, and she was one of those elite few.

She had worked her butt off for the past four years of high school to earn the top grade not only in her high school but the entire North. Universities had offered her scholarships - from Lannisport to Sunspear and even the Eyrie, which had been her second choice. But she’d been holding out for her number one choice.

Thankfully, when the offer came from The Citadel, the oldest and most established university in all of Westeros, she hadn't accepted any other offers so she was free to give them an enthusiastic yes!

Her family hadn't understood why she had to go so far away. Her father, while proud of her, grumbled for a few days. Her mother worried, saying that those in the south couldn’t be trusted, even though she was from the Riverlands. Her brother Robb thought she was just being snotty. Bran and Ric were too young to really understand.

The only person in her family that had been just as excited as her was her sister Arya – but that was probably more due to Arya resisting their mother and her idea of what good Stark girls should do than really being supportive of Sansa.

If Sansa were being honest with herself, her family hadn't ever really understood her. They loved her, but they didn’t understand her.

She didn’t fit in with her siblings, not enjoying the outdoors and the rough and tumble lifestyle that seemed to be prevalent in the North.

Sansa had always found such joy in reading and academics, and while she'd done dance and choir to please her mother, Sansa had always known that she wanted to pursue high education. And not just as a means of landing a great job like Robb was getting his degree for– but because that was where she was truly happiest.

Thankfully, her father had shared her love of reading and had eased some of the pressure her mother had put on her. Not that her mother hadn't meant well – but in Catelyn Stark's world, a woman should still want to find a man and marry well as the sum total of her life’s ambition. It was fine for a woman to have a career- as long as that career did not come before her husband, her children and her home. Those three things were sacred in Catelyn’s world.

While Sansa's little sister had been goading their mother for years by starting clubs at school called " _Fight the Patriarchy: Marriage is an archaic institution_!", Sansa had tried to appease their mother. Mostly.

Sansa's love of fairy tales, golden princes and stories of true love overcoming all obstacles had made her excited about the possibility of finding the love of her life when she was away at school. She’d scoured the North and had never met a single man up here that came anywhere near what she was looking for.

In her mind, her future husband would be tall, not overly muscular, but strong and blond. He would be smart and charming. Good looking but not so much that he wasn’t also kind. He'd know how to treat a lady properly, and they'd fall in love over picnics and long walks, that they would take, hand in hand through the city.

Sansa so believed in this ideal, that she had remained a virgin all through high school, stubbornly clinging to the idea that her soulmate was out there, and she just had to leave the North to find him.

It wasn't that she didn't love her home, but it wasn't cultured the way Oldtown was. She had needed more, and now that she was here, she was determined to find it. Smiling to herself, Sansa gathered her luggage, knowing her parents would ship the rest and hurried out into the humid August heat to hail a cab and take her to her dorm.

She wanted the full university experience, so she was staying on campus, in a single room, where she hoped she'd meet some lifelong friends, and hopefully fulfill her dream of academic success. And if it wasn’t too much to ask the universe, meet her future husband. With her positive mindset firmly in place, Sansa settled into her new life, eager for all it had to offer.

* * *

_ 2011: Oldtown (19 years old) _

Sansa had met Marg and Ros, two women that were a year older than her when she'd joined the Model UN Club at The Citadel. Their university had encouraged club participation and mandated that each undergrad had to be part of at least one club for the duration of their studies in order to graduate. It was supposed to show the world that they could multi-task and that they worked well with others.

The three women had hit it off, and thanks to a very generous grandmother, who indulged Marg's every whim, they had moved into off-campus housing the next year.

Their house was a big old rambling monstrosity divided into three floors, with Marg, Sansa and Ros living on the first floor. A quiet couple rented out the basement, and three men, two brothers named Sam and Dickon and their friend Satin took the top.

Soon the six university students were as tight as could be, with Sansa and Sam being the most devoted to their studies of the six, but all of them getting along well. Sam was a year ahead of Sansa, but in the same area of study, so he was a massive help to her, and they became quite close with their endless study sessions.

Their house was often full of friends, with people always stopping by, and there usually wasn’t a weekend where a small gathering couldn't be found in their living room, kitchen or the back patio.

Sansa had fully embraced university life, including having roommates and she willingly put up with Marg and Ros and their antics, because the pros of her friends vastly outweighed the cons.

For transportation, Sansa either walked, bussed or took the metro to the campus. She lived on a skimpy budget, preferring to spend her meal allowance on the latest clothing or hottest new restaurant, rather than have a car down here.

It wasn’t that Sansa didn’t have a trust fund; she was a Stark after all. But she was stubbornly determined to do as much of this on her own, so she could look back and know that this degree was hers in a way nothing else ever had been. Down here in Oldtown, being a Stark meant almost nothing and it was freeing in a way it had never been before for Sansa.

She and the girls often shopped at the farmer's market near their house, and they always made a point to go clubbing once a week to blow off steam.

At first, she had been a bit concerned that her active social life would prevent her from achieving the success she so desired, but it seemed the balance was right for her. She wasn't as wild as Marg and didn't sleep through classes like Ros.

She had Sam, who challenged and pushed her, and since they were taking the same major, he was an absolute godsend. Sansa would often beg off on trips to the beach, in either Marg's sporty little convertible or Dickon's jeep when she had significant deadlines due.

But otherwise, she embraced her newfound friendships and freedoms that came from living in one of the most vibrant cities in all of Westeros. Sansa adored Oldtown and it’s ancient history, cobblestones and twisty streets. She never minded if she got lost, and the weather was near perfect always.

She spoke with her family once a week, on their mandatory skype check in call, and texted back and forth with her siblings frequently – but for the most part, Sansa did not miss the North at all. Including the cold and snowy winters.

She'd briefly considered dating Dickon when she’d first met the boys upstairs – he was a nice guy and handsome and was a year older than her, at twenty. But there was no spark, and even though the girls teased her about being the last virgin at the university, Sansa was not trading in her v-card to just anyone.

Besides, Sansa was pretty sure Ros and Dic were hooking up every time one of them was single. There were way too many times Sansa caught Ros doing the walk of shame between floors.

For the first time in her life, Sansa truly felt accepted, surrounded by people that got her and living her best life. Even if she was still pathetically single in her second year.

* * *

_2012- 2013: Oldtown (20/21 years old) _

She wasn't prepared to literally run into the man she would marry - even though she'd come to university open to the possibility that the universe might pair her up with her future husband. So far for Sansa, dating had been a dismal affair.

That all changed when she smacked into a handsome man coming out of the library during a late-night cram session with Sam. Exam week was upon them, and she had one more to get through, in her third year Anthro class, before she was flying home to Winterfell for Christmas break.

"Whoa," the guy said, grabbing her arms and steadying her. Sansa flushed, hating when she was clumsy. Then she felt the strong hands on her arms and the warm feeling there.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized before she glanced up at the man she'd run into.

He was so handsome, truly her ideal man that he might have been plucked from her childhood dreams, that she sucked a deep breath. He had bright blue eyes, an almost blindingly white smile and artfully tousled blond hair.

"Hey, no problem. I'm Harry, by the way," he said, flashing her a little grin.

Sansa felt her legs shake as she melted on the spot. Oh boy! He was even cuter when he smiled! Realizing she'd been staring at him like a dope, she stuttered out her name.

"Hi, I'm Sansa Stark."

"Hello, Sansa Stark," Harry replied, a teasing tilt to his lips. "Coming or going?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Are you done studying, or joining the ranks of all-nighters?" he repeated.

Gods, he must think her an absolute moron the way she was responding – or not responding. He had her totally tongue-tied.

"Uhmmm, we just finished. Oh! This is my friend Sam,” Sansa said as if she just realized she’d failed to introduce one of her best friends.

“Hello,” Sam said, giving a little wave.

Harry flashed Sam a smile, who was glancing between the two of them, a wary look to his eyes. Sam was such a good friend, and Sansa treasured him. Clearly he was eyeing Harry up. Sansa gave a nervous giggle.

"Right then, I'll just go. Unless you need a ride home, Sansa? I borrowed Dickon's Jeep since I knew we'd be late and the busses stopped running."

"I can take you," Harry piped up. "Maybe we can grab a coffee before I bring you home."

Sam frowned, not liking how forward the handsome stranger was. Seeing Sam’s frown, Harry quickly pivoted. It seemed like he didn’t want to miss out on a chance of coffee with her – even if that meant going with her friend.

"Relax, why don't you come along as well, Sam. Then you can make sure I have no nefarious intentions when it comes to your friend." Harry winked at Sam, and Sansa missed how Sam shuffled his feet a bit, put on the spot by Harry.

In her mind, Harry was incredible. It was so amazing that he was going out of his way to make this first meeting memorable, even inviting Sam along when clearly he wanted to be alone with her.

Still, Harry was a virtual stranger, so Sansa turned her big doe eyes on Sam and batted her lashes, begging him to join that. That was date number one, as the three of them went and found an all-night coffee shop.

Harry, it turned out, was in the final year of his business degree. He was rarely on the main campus anymore, only coming in to return a book that he'd borrowed. Sansa didn't think a man could be any more perfect, and even though he was twenty-two, their ages didn't seem that big of a deal to Sansa. She was twenty after all and had barely dated, even though she was in her third year of university. He just seem worldly and knowledgeable.

By the time Harry walked her and Sam to Dickon's Jeep after their impromptu coffee date, Sansa was falling fast.

They exchanged numbers, and Harry promised to text her the next day. He was headed home to the Eyrie for the break, to stay with an uncle he said was really more of a family friend. It turned out Harry didn't have much family, and Sansa's already soft heart melted like butter for the handsome man.

 _He was lonely! She could be his family!_ She thought.

Within a month, they were exclusive, Harry having kept his promise to text her when he said he would – and each subsequent day afterwards on the Christmas break. Sansa spent her winter break in a daze thinking about him, and eagerly returned to Oldtown, where he picked her up at the airport and then surprised her by taking her on a date to a park. There he'd packed a lunch, and they spent the afternoon walking hand in hand around a little lake, talking and getting to know one another.

In Sansa’s world, it was the absolute perfect second date and she fell even harder.

When Harry met her friends, the people she shared her house with, it was as if he were the missing piece to their group, and his transition to their clique was utterly seamless.

Both Ros and Marg were excited that Sansa was finally dating someone seriously, and they were always giving her helpful pointers when it came to dating. It didn’t hurt that Harry was easy on the eyes, treated her well and for the most part, a pretty good guy.

The first time Sansa told Harry she was a virgin, they'd already been together for three months. He gently told her he'd wait for as long as she needed to be ready before they took that next step, never pressuring her.

That next step turned out to be on her twenty-first birthday, when his kisses had driven her to ask for more. Sansa knew this was the man she would marry. He was everything she'd ever wanted, and she knew there wasn't anyone more perfect for her in all of Westeros. 

She clapped proudly when he'd graduated that spring with this Bachelor's in Commerce. He’d winked at her and she’d melted in her seat, overwhelmed with how handsome he was.

Then she had cheered when he'd decided to remain at The Citadel to do his masters.

It meant they'd have another year together at Oldtown. By the time they both graduated, Sansa would be twenty-two and have her BA, a double major in anthropology and archeology, and Harry would have his MBA and be twenty-four. 

Sansa brought him home to Winterfell that summer, where her brothers warmly welcomed him to the Stark family. Even Arya, at twenty years old, eventually warmed up to him, even if she said he reminded her way too much of that Prince Charming from Shrek.

The nickname stuck, and Harry embraced it, bantering back and forth with Arya for the two weeks they were there. He’d called her Puss in Boots because he said she reminded him of an angry little cat. That’s when Arya accepted Harry and his place in Sansa’s life.

Even her sister admitted he was good for Sansa before they left.

The only sour note of the entire trip was when her mother had pulled her aside and worried how fast things were moving. That felt odd since it had been her mother that had seemingly pushed the entire idea of marrying and having children as the ultimate thing a woman could achieve. Sansa was so miffed she called her mother out on it.

"Oh, darling, yes. But you were having so much fun, Sansa, being single. This just seems so serious."

Sansa couldn't deny how much she loved Harry, so she told her mother how happy he made her.

"I thought that's what you wanted for me?"

Catelyn had sighed and simply nodded, appearing worried, but saying nothing more. Sansa got the feeling for some reason, Cat didn’t like Harry, which was odd, since almost everyone else did.

When they arrived back in Oldtown, they had a talk about where they were going to live.

Since they were near inseparable and Harry basically lived at their house already, when the bottom tenants moved out of the house she shared with Marg and Ros, Sansa and Harry took the basement suite.

It allowed Sansa to tell a little white lie to her parents since her address technically hadn't changed. She just omitted the fact that she moved in with Harry and that they were all but living together. What her parents didn’t know couldn’t hurt them right?

Sansa had found everything she'd ever wanted in Oldtown, and she couldn't imagine anything that might ruin her near-perfect life that she was building with the man she loved.

* * *

_ 2014: Oldtown (22 years old) _

For a short while, their lives were absolutely perfect. They rarely fought, dedicated themselves to their studies, and hung out with their friends, all while their relationship blossomed. Their love, Sansa believed was only growing stronger.

Her entire family flew down for her and Harry's graduation ceremonies, where Sansa had once again been named valedictorian. Even though Robb, Arya and Ric screamed when her name was called, embarrassing her, she was secretly glad to have them here and witness her success and hard work.

Her family loved Marg's old house. Sansa saw the looks of disappointment on her parents' faces when they realized that she and Harry were living together and that she hadn’t told them. She’d just never gotten around to it, and now it was a moot point.

She brushed aside their worries, confident in her decisions. She was an adult, and she loved Harry and he loved her.

Sansa spent a week showing her family the best parts of Oldtown – the castles, the markets, the tiny little shops and fabulous restaurants. She took her older siblings clubbing, and she swore something was happening between Marg and Robb, which she had not expected. Robb was twenty-four, Marg twenty-three and Arya had just turned twenty-one. 

When she took her parents to the airport, she was oddly weepy. Her parents embraced her and told her they were proud of her, but there was a wall up now between them, stemming from Sansa hiding just how serious she and Harry were. Her mother said nothing, but Sansa could tell she wasn’t totally on board the Harry train.

When she returned home from the airport she knew they had some big decisions in front of them. They hadn’t fully decided what the next steps were for them, yet, as a couple.

For Sansa, it was easy – she was moving on to do her Master's work. Her goals for a doctorate in her chosen field hadn't changed since she'd come to post-secondary life. If anything, she was more determined than ever to succeed in her chosen field.

The only question was where. Harry had a few job offers, but he seemed to be leaning towards the one from his ‘uncle’ in the Eyrie since the pay was the best, and he'd have an 'in.'

They'd actually been fighting a little bit about it, and it was making Sansa nervous. The job for Harry sounded too good to be true, and if she committed to the Eyrie, it would mean leaving Oldtown and all their friends. Harry had scolded her for being scared to try something new, but Sansa just wanted to be sure. So far, Harry wasn't great at defining where their relationship was going and she was by nature, a planner.

Two days after her parents left, after another huge fight about their future, Sansa was crying on their bed when her phone chimed.

 **Harry** : I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Let me make it up to you tonight, babe: dinner, 7 pm. Dress nicely.

Sansa sniffed. Maybe she was being a bit immature about this entire thing. She should trust Harry. He'd never done anything to break that trust and if he wanted to go the Eyrie, the university there was excellent.

She texted him back and told him she'd be ready.

He showed up in a borrowed car that looked expensive and whisked her away to one of the nicest restaurants in Oldtown, where between the main dinner course and dessert, he's dropped down on one knee and opened a ring box. Inside sat a stunning sapphire, and Sansa gasped.

"Sansa Stark, I love you. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? To be by my side through all our ups and downs? I promise I'll always be true to you, and will love you for all time."

Sansa was so overwhelmed, the sheer romance of it all and eagerly said yes, swept up at the moment as people snapped pictures of them. They were young, impossibly in love, gorgeous and had bright futures ahead of them. So what if she was only twenty-two and Harry was twenty-four? This was what she’d wanted. 

If it bothered her later that Harry hadn't spoken to her parents first about them marrying, she brushed it off. They were a modern couple and they didn’t need ‘permission’ to marry.

When they told her family about her engagement, their response was lukewarm at best.

They were worried Sansa was too young, even though they'd been together for over two years. Even Marg and Ros sat Sansa down and asked her if she was ready to be an old married lady at twenty-two.

Stubborn and feeling defiant, Sansa dug in her heels. She was in love with Harry, and they were destined! Her friends could either get on board or …. She didn’t know what. Sansa didn’t want to lose her friends over becoming engaged. She’d thought they would be happy for her.

She'd been a blubbery mess, and both women apologized and hugged her hard, promising they'd help with the wedding.

Content that their futures were set, and that the best was yet to come, Sansa spent the summer soaking up the last of what Oldtown had to offer and packing for the move to the Eyrie. Harry had been flying back and forth, having started his job already, and had settled into the home that they had there.

The house had been part of his job offer, and Sansa didn't quite know how she felt about having her first house picked for her. But Harry had said it was great and that she’d love it and she trusted him.

When she flew out that August, her friends threw her a huge going away party, which Harry had come to. It was easier with him by her side as they said their goodbyes and prepared for their new life together in the Vale.

* * *

_ 2014: The Eyrie (22 years old) _

The house that Harry's 'uncle' Petyr had arranged for them as a work perk was great, although perhaps larger than Sansa had expected. It was in a trendy neighbourhood, full of newly built McMansions.

Since Harry was already starting in an upper-level management position at Petyr's trading firm, he'd assured the young couple that 'image counted.'

“This is the only place for someone of Harry’s status to be, Sansa,” Petyr had mansplained to her.

Sansa didn’t really care for the man and tried to avoid him whenever he was over, which, thankfully wasn’t often. The house was a monstrosity, as far as she was concerned, far too large for the two of them and soulless with no character. But Harry was happy here, and she was so busy, it hardly mattered.

Sansa thanked the gods that she spent that first year in the Vale too busy to have to play the perfect, doting fiancé.

When he’d complained one night that her studies were more important that his events, she told him it was degrading to her to be nothing more than his significant other.

Harry shrugged it off saying it was all part of the 'game.'

Personally, Sansa didn't care about status symbols that her soon to be husband seemed to crave– not the fancy car that Harry insisted she drive, nor the expensive clothing he bought for her. But it made him happy, so she just went along with it– it was easier than fighting about it.

For Sansa, she adored her new program in the Eyrie. Her thesis advisor was a man named Yohn Royce. He was intelligent, compassionate, kind, but demanding, and she thrived under his tutelage.

Between her program and planning her wedding and the numerous 'events' she had to attend with Harry, her life was a whirlwind.

It was only when she was mailing out cards for the wedding that she realized how much she'd lost touch with Marg and Ros. Both women had agreed to be bridesmaids, with Arya being her maid of honour when they married at Winterfell in the summer. Sansa apologized for how busy she'd become, but both women understood.

Marg had moved North, claiming it was for school but fooling no one as she moved in with Robb almost immediately. Both of them were in their mid twenties and eager to start their lives together. 

Dickon and Ros had shocked everyone when they'd eloped to Essos one weekend and then moved back to Dickon's hometown for him to take over the family business. At twenty-four, the both of them were madly in love. 

Sam was still at The Citadel, working on his Ph.D. now.

Everyone's lives had moved forward, not just Sansa’s so her guilt was assuaged slightly.

Still, it was a party when those they'd invited for the wedding descended upon Winterfell that summer, and for two weeks, Sansa spent her days catching up with her friends and family.

When her father walked her down the aisle to Harry, there wasn't a dry eye in the park where they'd decided to exchange their vows, and even her parents had come around to this marriage.

Harry was a solid guy- dependable and a good earner. He loved Sansa and provided well for her. Her mother had been excited when she'd heard about Harry's job with her good friend Petyr Baelish, and their wedding was a joyful occasion.

They spent the night showered in the love of their friends and family, before jetting off to Naath for their honeymoon.

When school resumed that fall, Sansa had only eight months left before she'd have her Master's degree. It was a lifelong goal, and she was still determined to go for her Ph.D. - and her advisor was encouraging her to do so. He had commented on more than one occasion at the wonderful addition she'd make to the academic world. That was high praise from a man like Yohn Royce and Sansa was proud of her intellect.

Harry made more than enough money for the both of them, and when she'd asked him about it, he'd just said, "Go for it, babe."

The subject of her trust fund never came up; Harry hated even being reminded of it.

Harry seemed to like that she wasn't as career-driven as him. He'd confessed how much he loved being the 'earner' in their family.

Sansa didn’t much care, except for when he introduced her passion for academia as her 'hobby' instead of her career. But she often did not let it slide. Many of the wives of Harry's colleagues didn't even have jobs – other than staying home and raising their children and looking after their beautiful homes.

Sansa respected whatever choice a woman made that brought her happiness, but she wanted more.

While Sansa knew money was crucial to Harry, it wasn't nearly as important to her. Because of Harry’s demanding work schedule and her intense course load, it sometimes it felt like they barely saw one another, even though they were newlyweds.

Her husband worked long hours at the office, and she was so deep into her Master's that she could scarcely find time to eat. Still, they managed to steal time a couple times a week to keep that passion alive, and Sansa knew that while their lives weren’t perfect, she was blessed.

Everybody had to work on their marriage, right?

It was only when it was nearing November when her fatigue had gotten so bad that she could barely drag herself from their bed, that Sansa finally went to the doctor. It was there, where she was alone since Harry was away at a conference, that the doctor told her she was pregnant – due in July.

The time couldn't have been worse since she'd have to complete her Master's while she was pregnant. And she had wanted to wait until she was done school to have children.

Harry on the other hand had been talking about it since their honeymoon, saying he wanted to start his legacy with some sons.

Sansa hadn't quite known how to take that statement since it seemed utterly chauvinist in this day and age, but it was nice to have a husband that wanted children. When she'd called him out on it, he shrugged.

"Or a girl. You know, whatever. Lots of the guys at work already have babies, San. We need to keep up. Being a family man is important for the image.”

It had seemed then like he'd wanted kids more for what it would do for his career than for actually wanting a child, but she'd let it drop. The horse was out of the barn as they said; she was pregnant and it wasn’t like they were without means. Their child would be loved and well taken care of.

Despite the poor timing, Sansa felt a thrill that she was going to be a mom.

She made a big deal of telling Harry when he'd gotten home from his latest business trip, and he'd shouted excitedly that he’d knocked her up as he'd swung her around in his strong arms, clearly overjoyed at the news.

"Fuck babe, that's awesome. Guess my swimmers are strong," he said, winking at her.

Sansa wasn't quite sure how they messed up their birth control since she was on the pill, but let it slide.

They were pregnant and having a baby. She was in love, married, with a great future, and now, they would add one more to their growing family, and Sansa, for one, was thrilled.

* * *

_ 2015: The Eyrie (23 years old) _

On the heels of her graduation in June with her Master's degree in anthropology, Sansa welcomed her son to the world in July.

Her family, who had been overjoyed at the news of their pregnancy, had all camped out at their house for the week before her due date, as she waited anxiously for her little boy who stubbornly went five days past his due day.

It was only when Sansa was out walking with Bran and Ric one night, that she noticed the twinges of pain in her abdomen, and she'd waddled home, knowing that her labour had begun. Catelyn had been by Sansa's side throughout the ordeal, helping her through the pain and coaching her through her the birth of her first child.

Fifteen hours later, a bald little boy had let out his first hearty yell, and Sansa fell madly in love with her son.

They named him Benjamin Henry Hardyng, and he was doted upon from the moment he took his first breath.

Since Sansa had refused to determine the gender of the baby before Ben was born, Harry was doubly happy that Sansa had "given him a son,” and that he was healthy.

Sansa had been too involved with her new son to pay much attention to his comment, but she often thought about it later. Still, Sansa took to motherhood easily, feeling fulfilled in a way she hadn’t previously. It was like she was meant to be Ben’s mother – her purpose for why she was here.

It was clear to everyone, within a month of being at home with her baby, that Sansa knew she wanted to stay home full time with Ben.

Harry hardly blinked when she told her decision as if it had been assumed, but she didn't mind much.

Sansa was so in love with Ben and adored every single moment with him. Free from anything but taking care of Benny, Sansa was able to fly back and forth to Winterfell, spending time with her family and giving them unfettered access to him. They all loved Ben, the first grandchild, and he was treated like a little prince.

At home, Harry's work schedule hadn't changed, and while he loved Ben, he wasn't precisely an attentive father. He was much happier to leave raising Ben to her, telling her that before his parents passed away, his mother had been a stay at home mom, and he loved how she was taking after her.

Harry had assured her that when Ben was older, he’d do the typical Dad stuff – like playing catch.

“Diapers and feedings, that’s on you San,” he’s said, with a wink that Sansa no longer found charming.

Harry’s ideas of raising children, hadn't sat well with Sansa, since she did plan on going back to get her Ph.D., eventually.

But for now, that wasn't a fight worth picking. She had her son and all the time in the world to get back to her career; Benny was only small for a short time, and Sansa didn't want to miss anything with him, enjoying every single moment they spent together.

* * *

_ 2016/17: Wintertown (25 years old) _

Sansa was home for a visit to Winterfell when she arranged for Benny's eight-month shots with the pediatrician she used when she was in the North. While she had a doctor in the Eyrie since she was in the North so much, it had only made sense to go back to the family doctor Catelyn had used with all the Stark children.

The checkup was supposed to be routine, but Sansa could see her doctor was troubled when he weighed and measured her son.

"I'm just a bit concerned. He's lost some of his percentile in both weight and height."

Sansa worried her lip, holding Benny on her lap, while he asked her questions, a pit of dread forming in her stomach. She tried hard not to go to the worst-case scenario, but his questions were making her more and more nervous.

"How has his appetite been?"

Ben was an eater, but lately, Sansa noticed he'd been fussy and eating less. He also seemed to have some pain in his stomach and some bruising that seemed to linger, along with frequent nosebleeds.

Now truly worried, her doctor scheduled them for tests, drawing blood work that very day to send away to the lab.

Within two days, the doctor phoned and asked her to come in to discuss the test results – and that it shouldn’t be delayed.

Sansa called Harry and demanded her come North, to hear the news with her. After a huge fight, he finally grumbled he'd catch a late flight. The next day, they received the news that the blood work had come back with some worrying results – namely that Ben's white blood cells were failing to mature correctly.

In what was an ever-increasing nightmare, they spent the next week seeing a childhood cancer specialist, before a diagnosis of childhood acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL).

"No. I … no," Sansa said, shaking her head, refusing to believe it. Harry said nothing, leaving her to demand all the answers.

She begged, pleaded and raged, but the oncologist wasn't moved. He stood by the test results.

"You have some options, but we need to move quickly if we want the best chance of beating this. I'll be honest, for many children, the prognosis is good."

When they returned home to Winterfell, Sansa rushed to find her son before they gathered the family to give the shattering news. The Starks were stunned, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, as they all tried to wrap their brains around what this meant.

For Sansa, she threw herself into researching ALL. She would do whatever it took to get him healthy.

The oncologist had been correct that almost 85% of children with this diagnosis survived. But Sansa wanted the best for her son, and after two solid days of research on the internet and calling in favours, and she had an appointment for Ben in Oldtown at the leading children's hospital in the country.

Marg assured Sansa that they could move back into the house they'd lived in when they'd been in university and get her Grandma to make some calls. Olenna Tyrell was a force in the Reach.

Hope bloomed in Sansa at how things were coming together.

When she turned to Harry, expecting him to be hopeful at the plan she'd come up with, he'd appeared to be upset and then asked to speak with her alone.

"What's up?" she said, for the first time in days, feeling like she could breathe.

She had a plan! She had the best doctors in Westeros willing to see her baby. They were going to beat this, and then this would all be a distant, horrible nightmare.

"San, what are you doing?"

She frowned.

"Ummm, getting Benny bear the best doctor in Westeros."

"In Oldtown. San, our life is in the Eyrie. They have hospitals there."

She snorted.

"They ranked third. No. Marg says we can have the house. I'm sure you can take a leave of absence. Petyr would understand."

"Sansa, I'm not taking a leave of absence. Ben can get treatment in the Eyrie. That's where we live."

She shook her head. "No. We're going to Oldtown."

He glared at her. "I can't, San. My job – it's so competitive. If I step away, someone will take my place."

She gaped at him and then leaned in close, her eyes blazing. "This is our son, Harry. He has cancer. Your job doesn't matter."

He glared back at her, shoulders tense. Sansa couldn’t believe what she was hearing! How was this even a choice?

"I earn the money. You haven't worked in years."

"I have a trust fund, Harry. We'll be fine."

He snorted. "I'm not living off your money, Sansa. It's my job to be the provider."

The fight had degenerated from there, with them screaming at one another. The next day Harry had gone back to the Eyrie, and Sansa flew home a few days later to pack for Oldtown. They compromised that Harry would come down every other weekend to be with them, while Sansa would live fulltime in Oldtown.

It wasn't what she expected, to be twenty-five and basically a single mother who now had to navigate a sick child. She was never more grateful for her family and friends, who rallied hard to be there them. She and Harry drifted further and further apart, as the treatments became more gruelling and her husband couldn’t bear to see Benny suffer.

Sansa stoically fought beside Benny through every horrible treatment, every sleepless night, every day he cried for hours in pain. He was her baby, and she’d be by his side through it all.

Sansa would never understand how her husband could walk away each weekend from their sick son, and Harry could never understand how she'd uprooted their entire life and moved to Oldtown.

Without the Starks, Marg, Ros, even Sam, Sansa would have faltered. But through it all, including two Christmas spent far, far away from the North, her people were there for her and Ben.

And for a while, Sansa believed that the treatments were working, that Benny would beat his diagnosis, and this would all be behind them, and a new chapter in their life would begin.

Then she would work on saving the marriage that had crumbled around her when she'd moved heaven and earth to save her beloved son.

* * *

_ 2018: Oldtown (26 years old) _

It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon when Sansa held her son as he took his last breath. Harry had managed to show up when Sansa had frantically phoned him a few days earlier when Ben's health had taken a dramatic turn for the worst.

Ben had just celebrated his third birthday, although it was low key and very different from other children his age. His new round of treatment was scheduled to begin shortly after his birthday, and all of Sansa's family had come to Oldtown to celebrate with her parents deciding to stay to help support them when they went back into the hospital.

Even Harry had managed to be there for an entire week, although he spent countless hours on the phone or computer. Sansa didn't understand why he didn't want to spend as much time with their son as possible, but she was exhausted from devoting her entire life to Ben, and she had no time for Harry.

She was the one that fought for Ben. She was the one who had pushed him to be accepted at the best hospital. She was the one that held his hand as they sunk needles into his skin, fed him popsicles when his tummy hurt, held him when nightmares woke him. She was the one that was doing everything for their son, and her rage at Harry was on a constant low simmer.

Sansa talked to a councillor twice a week, so she knew her emotions were all over the place – and that this was normal. She knew that people processed things differently, but she could never understand how Harry all but abandoned them during the worst time in their life. She doubted she could ever forgive him.

They were a month into his new treatment plan when his little body had started to fail.

Despite the best medical care in Westeros, cancer had ravaged his body, and Ben's medical team had taken her aside on the weekend to tell her that they'd done all they could for him when it came to fighting cancer – now it was time to talk end of life care and making him comfortable.

Sansa had been numb, not wanting to believe it. Her parents were there, by her side as Ben’s doctors delivered the devastating news. Now, as she swayed, Ned's strong arms held her as she shook her head, denial stamped on her features.

"But, you said, you said this was working. This treatment. That the cancer was responding," her voice accusatory.

Gently, the lead doctor took her hands in his.

"Sansa, we've discussed this. There was never a guarantee."

It was the devastation that she saw in the man's eyes that finally convinced her that her baby was going to die. And soon.

She swallowed down any more denials. "How long does he have?"

The man shook his head. "We don't know; days perhaps."

Days.

She had days left with her son, her baby. Hours really. How did a mother fit that much love into such a short time? She needed to fit a lifetime into that short frame. It was impossible.

She pushed away from her father and sprinted back to Ben's room, choking back the sob when she saw him resting. For the first time since this began, Sansa allowed herself to look at her son without her rose coloured glasses on.

He was tiny, having lost so much weight in this battle, his skin almost paper-thin. He had tubes in his nose and arms, and even though he was in a child's bed, it dwarfed him.

She stood there, realizing that all the signs were already there. His little body had fought for as long as it could, and now it was done. He'd been in pain for two of the three years of his short life, and she knew he was ready to go. She sunk on to the bed, cradling him gently in her arms.

"It's ok, baby, Mama's got you," she whispered, pretty a kiss to the top of his bald head. "It's ok, Benny. Mama knows how much you fought, baby. It's ok to let go, sweetheart. I'll hold you, Ben. I’ll be right by your side, always.”

Her parents had made the calls as Sansa refused to leave his side, and within a day, his room was filled with her family and Harry.

In the end, Sansa and Harry took turns holding him, making him smile when he woke up briefly before he drifted back off. They'd increased his pain medications, and two and a half days after Sansa had been given the news, Ben passed away in her arms.

She barely heard the doctor call time of death, and couldn't even look at her family. She couldn't bear to see their pain – not when hers was so huge. She didn’t know a person could hurt like this and still, somehow, survive.

She wanted everyone gone. This was her baby, and as her wet eyes met Harry's for the first time since this entire nightmare had begun, they were firmly on the same page.

For once, Harry stepped up, telling her family to say their goodbyes as Sansa kept holding Ben. The entire time, Sansa did not let him go, until finally, it was only her and Harry with their son.

"San, come on," Harry finally said, looking as brutal as she felt.

They were hollow husks of the people they used to be, destroyed by losing their son.

"He's so little Harry. I can't let him go," she sobbed, finally breaking down completely. Harry's arms came around her.

"I know, San. I do. But he's gone."

She sobbed harder, her entire body convulsing until she had nothing left. Shaking, she gently placed her son on his bed, stroking a finger down his soft cheek. His body was rapidly cooling, and she knew there was nothing left that made him her Benny bear.

She made it as far as the hallway before her legs gave out. Thankfully, Robb caught her and called a nurse, where she was given a sedative. They kept her there at the hospital for observation that night.

The following days were filled with endless decisions about the funeral, an argument erupting between Harry and her family. She'd been silent most of the time, refusing to plan it, because then it would be real.

This couldn’t be real.

It was only when Harry insisted he be buried in the Eyrie that she finally stepped in.

"He'll go home, to the North. To be buried beside Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Brandon and Aunt Lyanna."

Then she ran from the room and sprinted to the bathroom to be sick.

Arya was there, rubbing her back as Sansa let the tears come. When she finally composed herself, she took two more sedatives and crawled into bed, clutching her son's favourite wolf stuffy. Arya, bless her, said nothing, just got into bed with Sansa and held her as the grief raged.

Four days after her son died, Sansa closed the door on the house in Oldtown for what she knew would be the last time. She would never come back here, to this place that had given her such hope, only to dash it all away.

On the plane North, she was silent, knowing it was only due to the incredible work that her family had done, their wealth and connections, that everything had been arranged so swiftly for Ben’s funeral. But still, she could barely stand to look at them.

She was a silent waif, existing in her own world of grey.

Sansa wondered if she'd ever find happiness again, as she somehow made it through the funeral, defying everyone's expectations and giving the eulogy for her son.

When they had protested, she'd glared them down. "I am his mother. Who else would do it?"

Watching them lower his casket into the ground almost broke her. He was so alone, so cold, so separate from her. She wanted to crawl into the grave beside him and never come back.

But she could not, and she was gently led away from his grave by her brothers and sister.

Sansa stayed in Winterfell for three months after Ben's funeral, spending each day at the cemetery, back propped up against the tree where he was buried. She often just gazed out to nothing. When she was in the mood, she spoke to him.

Harry had been furious with her when she'd refused to come home, but she didn't care much. Her husband's 'concerns' didn't matter to her right now.

She was grieving, and she'd do it however felt right to her.

He came back to the North when the headstone she'd ordered was ready, and hugged her hard, choking back his own tears.

"It's beautiful, Sansa."

She was still angry at him for bailing during so much of Ben's battle with cancer. She still hadn't forgiven him for not being there, for not dropping everything in his life and making Ben the most important thing. She wanted to ask if he had regrets, for not spending time with Ben, now that he was gone, but that seemed too cruel even for her.

Instead, she leaned into him and pushed down her rage. Now was not the time. They were both still reeling from what had happened, too raw to really process it.

When he asked her to come home this time, not demanded, she reluctantly agreed. A part of her was nervous since she hadn't been back in almost a year, but a part of her, a tiny, minuscule part, wondered if this was what they needed. Perhaps this was the kernel of hope in which they could begin to rebuild their shattered lives.

If nothing else, she owed it to her son to try. Despite his many faults, Ben had loved Harry.

So she bid her family goodbye and boarded a plane back to the Eyrie, where she hoped this was the start of her journey back to the living.

She was twenty-six years old and had buried her only child. Her life felt like it had ended, and even though she would try, Sansa worried that she was too broken, the trauma to her and Harry too significant to overcome.

She knew she was in genuine danger of not only losing her child, but her marriage as well, and she vowed to try, if only for Ben. It was a mantra she'd repeat in the days and weeks to come, reminding herself that her son would want her to find her way out of the worst of her grief, and somehow, to the light again.

But for now, darkness was her friend, and grief her constant companion, stealing whatever intimacy she and Harry had once had, and sending two almost strangers home, to try and rebuild their shattered lives.

* * *

_ 2019: The Eyrie (27 years old) _

Any hope that Sansa had in Winterfell that her marriage might be salvaged were quickly destroyed when she returned home with Harry.

Her husband worked as much as ever, often leaving her alone for twelve or fifteen hours a day. Sansa barely saw him, and she declined all invitations from their ‘friends.'

She had never been friends with the people at Harry's office and knew that they were just curious about the wreck that had become her life.

She didn't fit in anywhere anymore. She'd willingly given up her studies to be a mother, and now she didn't fit into the mommy and baby groups because her son was dead.

Sansa had lost contact with most of the people in university - her entire world for the past three years focused on her son.

And she had no intention of being the freak that people stared at when she went out, so she became a hermit, drifting around her huge house with too many rooms and too much silence. The only time she left was to visit her therapist and get groceries.

She avoided her son's bedroom for the first two months she was back until Harry had mentioned one night at dinner that they had to 'deal with it.'

Sansa looked at him in horror, and he'd snapped on her.

"You're not the only one that lost a child, Sansa. For fuck sakes, he was my son too. But I can't just stop living life. Fuck, it's like you died with him."

She's been shocked at the venom in Harry's words. She knew their marriage had been on shaky ground for years. Even when Ben had been a baby, before he got sick, Sansa had doted upon her son. Often, Harry complained about how much time Sansa spent with Ben, saying he could pay a nanny to do what she was so she could concentrate on him.

He liked that she was a stay at home Mom, but had wanted his Sansa time.

Still, it was hard for her to think that their marriage was over.

Other people weathered the death of a child, she knew. Maybe they could as well.

She'd met some of those couples at the group session she attended for grieving parents. The only difference was, she was there alone. Harry had flat out rejected therapy, saying he didn't need other people telling him he was sad that his son died.

"No, you're just the man that gave up on his son the moment he got his diagnosis."

She saw the hurt cross Harry's face, but she didn't care. He had, and it was long past time she called him out on it.

"Like there was room for anyone but Saint Sansa to be there. Fuck, that kid had you wrapped around his little finger. He all but stole you from me, Sansa."

Her hand cracked across Harry's face then, and she didn't even regret it. She left the room, and for the first time, went into Ben's room. That night was the first time Harry left – for a month.

When he came back, he was apologetic, and Sansa let him back in. She'd increased her therapy sessions, going almost daily now. Her therapist had said the road would be bumpy, and that harsh truth would have to come out.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they finally spoke, crying together as they remembered their son, and a few days later, Sansa asked Harry to come back to their bedroom. They made love that night, almost awkwardly, as if they were strangers. She didn't peak, could barely work up the emotion for it, but her husband grunted his release into her as she lay there. She was trying, but she just didn't have it in her to work on her marriage while she was fighting through her grief.

Even though Harry shared her bed, he didn't touch her again, and six months later, when she accidentally picked up his phone and saw his text message conversation with his young female co-worker, a woman who was twenty-three, and she couldn't even say she was surprised. Sansa took a screenshot of it, noted the hotel they were planning on meeting at, and then called her sister.

"Fucking scumbag," Arya snarled.

Her family, of course, had been worried about her, but Sansa had kept them in her life only on the periphery. The only person she could stand to talk with was Arya, and Sansa relied on her sister to give the family messages about how she was doing.

Arya had agreed, on the condition that Sansa phoned her every other day, and that she never hid anything from her. Surprisingly, it was easy to do. Arya let Sansa feel whatever she wanted: fury, guilt, grief, happiness, anger, shock, and she never judged her for it.

Her entire world had devolved to dealing with her grief, her support group and joining a children's cancer research group. Sansa didn’t have time, nor the energy for anything else.

"In fairness, we've barely had a marriage," Sansa said.

"Still, tell me you're going to go to the hotel and catch them," Arya demanded.

For the first time since Ben died, Sansa felt something stir in her.

It was pure, hot rage that her husband would do this to her, to them.

Sansa knew their marriage was rocky – it had been for years.

But this?

The messages made it seem like they had been going on for a while. She knew from her grief groups that lack of interest in a sex life was very usual for what she was going through.

The idea of confronting him when he was meeting his mistress lodged itself in her brain.

His _mistress_.

Gods, they were such a cliché. The college sweethearts that wouldn't even make it ten years into their marriage.

"You know what, Arya, I am."

"Good, sissy. Make him pay."

For the first time since her son got sick, Sansa spent the afternoon primping and getting ready for her husband. Only this time, it was to end her marriage.

In the end, it was as awkward and awful as Sansa had suspected.

Harry had sputtered when she'd shown up at the hotel restaurant, and Sansa was surprisingly hurt to see him not wearing his wedding ring. The woman, the mistress, had to be a few years younger than Sansa, dark-haired and sultry, and she didn't let go of Harry's hand. The screaming match in the restaurant saw the woman accuse Sansa of being an ice queen that had driven her husband away and straight into her arms.

Devastated, humiliated and furious, Sansa drilled her finger into Harry's chest.

"My lawyer will call yours. Do not come home," she said and stormed out of the restaurant, her hands reaching for the phone to call Arya.

Her sister rallied the Stark pack, and Ned's lawyers were drawing up the papers within the hour. Her father arranged for a man to come and change all the locks on the doors, and Sansa spent the next few months painfully tearing her marriage apart.

She and Harry only spoke through their lawyers, and the only time she saw him was when he negotiated an afternoon to come and take some of Ben's things. Even Sansa wasn't cold-hearted enough to deny him that, and she hovered at the edge of Ben's room, watching her soon to be ex-husband go through their sons' clothing and select some items. 

Sansa's heart broke for all of them; herself, Harry, Ben.

How had it all gone so wrong?

A few months later, Sansa went home to Winterfell to mark the first anniversary of Ben's death. The divorce papers had been signed a week earlier, and she was, for the first time in eight years, single.

No husband.

No child.

No job.

Her world had crumbled, and she was at absolute rock bottom, wondering if there was anything that might bring back some happiness in her life, but having no idea where that might come from.

* * *

It was one month after the first anniversary of her child's death when a tiny sliver of hope had entered Sansa's life.

When word had reached her old thesis advisor Yohn Royce that her marriage had collapsed, the man had reached out to her. He'd found her the perfect doctoral project, doing oral history on a tiny island in the North, and had encouraged her to apply for the research project.

Sansa knew the man had been trying desperately to get her interested in something again. Sansa was a shell of her former self, and he had been deeply worried about her. Everyone these days was concerned about her.

Didn't they know that if she hadn't broken yet, she wasn't planning on it anytime soon?

While she wasn't sure anything would ever manage to pique her interest again, not the way she had been obsessed with her research before Benny, she knew she needed a change of scenery. She couldn't stay in the Vale, in the Eyrie, in a home that was haunted by all their ghosts.

It wasn't just her baby, but her and Harry and the different people they had been that haunted the house she'd come to hate.

At first, she'd thought there had been no way she'd be able to leave the only home where her son lived. So many of her memories of him were there. She'd finally been brave enough to bring that up with her councillor, and the woman had gently stroked her hand, asking Sansa if she lost the memories of her home when she'd moved to Oldtown. Or Winterfell. When Sansa said they had not, she realized she would carry Ben with her wherever she went.

Slowly they'd worked through her panic, her anxiety, and the sheer dread of having to leave her house until she felt confident she could do it. Ben was gone, no longer here, or anywhere. Nothing Sansa could do - no bargaining, no pleading, no raging would ever bring him back.

Her life in the Eyrie had become interminable, and when she'd worked through her guilt of leaving her home, she felt like a weight had come off her shoulders that she hadn't known she'd been carrying. Always determined, Sansa had begun to pack their house, when Harry's lawyers had gotten in touch with her.

It seemed that her lying, cheating ex-husband had heard that she was moving, and even though she'd gotten the house in the divorce, he wanted the first chance to repurchase it – whatever price she named. Sansa ached for what they'd become – virtual strangers when they had once meant everything to each other.

Still, something in Sansa eased, knowing that Harry wanted the house. He'd wanted all the furniture as well, and for the first time, Sansa saw just how devastated he must have been when she'd kicked him out of their home. It was his fault, cheating on her. But she was finally able to understand that he was grieving the death of his son as well.

She had nothing to say to Harry and named her price, which the lawyer readily agreed to. It had made packing up that much easier, and since she'd been dealing with Ben's stuff for the past year, it was just her clothing and personal items left.

The day she closed the door on her former home, the house where she'd brought her son home, where she'd moved in as a newlywed, she felt a million years old. She sat in her SUV, the big vehicle idling, and let the tears pour down her face, awash in the memories, both good and harrowing that this place had brought her.

She'd thought she'd grow old here, welcome Ben back from college at Christmas time here, and have more children with her husband, here. Now that life was gone, and it was never coming back. The guilt almost threatened to immobilize her until she sucked in a deep breath.

"He wants you to be happy, Sansa. He loves his Mommy. He doesn't want you to be sad," she repeated like a mantra. It was the only thing that got her through some days—believing in her soul that her bright, happy, loving son would not want his mother to live a life of pain and misery.

Sansa knew that she was at the beginning of the grief journey. The first year she'd been numb, but that numbness was now giving way to gut-wrenching pain – and anger.

It was only the memory of Benny's bright smile that pushed Sansa to want something more – one day. She wasn't there yet, but she made a promise to her son to at least try.

To try to live for him.

To try to find happiness again, for him.

To try to be open to new things for him.

The darkness would not win, and even though she knew she'd have tough days ahead, Sansa was a survivor. With a final look at the house where she'd lived, loved and lost, Sansa put her SUV in reverse and backed out of the long driveway.

She paused for a brief moment and whispered, "Come on, Benny, on to our next adventure," before she finally pulled away from the house that had stolen her entire future and pointed herself to Winterfell and the North.

* * *

_ 2020: Almost to the Island of Skene (28 years old) _

Sansa sucked in a deep breath as she stood by the railing on the small ferry, taking her and approximately twelve other people to the tiny island in the Shivering Sea that would be her home for the next twelve months.

She was finally on her way, after barely surviving the holidays with her family. They meant well, but the second Christmas without her child was hardly any better than the first. In fact, it might have been worse. Their grief was suffocating, and no one knew what might set her off so they tiptoed around her.

Everyone either didn't mention his name, which made her want to scream that he'd been alive, and deserved to be remembered, or gave her space when she started getting emotional.

Her mother, bless her, was trying, and while Catelyn's grief seemed as sincere as Sansa's, she just didn't have anything left inside her to try to comfort her mother. That job could fall to her father. As great as Cat had been through Ben's illness, right now, Sansa just resented her.

Sansa was Ben's mother. It was her child that was dead – not her mother's.

 _It almost felt like Cat was competing with her, for who was in the most pain,_ Sansa thought, knowing it was an uncharitable thought. Still, her brain was filled with angry, nasty thoughts, and while she might still her tongue and not voice them out loud, in her mind she let them whirl about.

Each of her siblings had bought an ornament for the tree in remembrance of Ben, so that was one nice thing. A mother's biggest fear when her child died was that people would forget them – that people would stop saying their name. Sansa's family was trying hard to prove that would never be the case.

Sansa also spent copious amounts of time visiting her son's grave, even though the weather was painfully cold. She felt closer to him when she could dust off his headstone, bring him fresh flowers and just speak with him.

The final blow for the holidays had come when Sansa had learned that Marg and Robb, now married, were pregnant and expecting. She knew that they'd dreaded sharing the news with her, and yet, she could see how happy they were. Robb had just turned thirty, and Marg was twenty-nine. 

Sansa barely choked out congratulations before dashing to her room to pack. It was a few days early, but she had to get out of here. She'd bump her flight to Skagos and lose herself around people that didn't know her.

She spent two days wandering around Skagos, doing nothing more than acting like a tourist. 

December 31st saw her asleep by 9 pm since the ferry to Skene, which only went once per week, left at 7 am. Sansa didn't feel there was much to 'celebrate' in her life and had no idea why this year would be any less painful than the one she'd just been through. All it felt like was that time was taking her further and further away from her baby.

Now, on the ferry, as the island that would be her home got larger before her, she couldn't stop the tiny thrill that coursed through her body.

Here she was a stranger. No one knew her sad story. No one would look at her in pity. If she wanted, she didn't have to tell a single soul about Ben. She could keep him locked up, all to herself and just try to be normal.

It was a fresh start, she realized.

She didn't even appreciate the soft smile that graced her beautiful face, as she gathered her luggage and prepared to disembark. The woman that had arranged her stay said that a local policeman named Jaime would meet her to take her to her cottage, and for the first time since she'd been given the devastating diagnosis for her son, Sansa felt a weight lift slightly from her burdened soul.

Maybe, just maybe she could find herself at the very ends of Westeros, on this beautiful and remote Northern island, that the rest of the world had all but forgotten. If nothing else, she could reinvent herself, be anything and anyone she wanted, and there was a freedom in that idea that she willingly embrace. Putting one foot in front of the other, Sansa opened her heart to the possibility that her son had led her here, to heal, to find herself and to put her life back together.

And it all started with finding this Jaime person and settling into life on the island of Skene, as Sansa Stark, and whomever she might now become. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> We backtrack 1 year to see how Jaime does in his first year of exile on Skene, were we meet the very colourful cast of characters who are going to help these two find their happiness! I promise - so many good things to come


	3. Jaime arrives on Skene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives on Skene

* * *

Chapter 3: Jaime

* * *

_ [Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/620592608386973697/i-love-this) _

* * *

_ January – Jaime arrives on Skene _

He huffed out a cold breath as he stamped his feet. He was standing on the deck of the little ferry that was bringing him to his new home for two years- Skene.

A few days before he'd been banished to Skene, Jaime had been sent a list of 'essentials' by his fellow police officers, Brienne Tarth and Podrick Payne. He was wearing several of those essentials right now, not that it seemed to help as the chilly wind cut right through him.

Jeor Mormont, the long-time island resident and chief of police, had finally been convinced to retire, although Brienne's typed brief to Jaime alluded to the fact that 'retirement' and the 'Chief' didn't go well together.

Jaime had wondered at that. Would this guy be a problem? Only time would tell.

The other two officers seemed alright. Brienne and Podrick had sent him a detailed list of what he needed for the first few months on the island.

_Dear Chief Lannister,_

_I hope this note finds you in good health as you make your way North to join us on the island of Skene. Though remote and now boasting 821 residents since Val Snow had her second baby, we offer plenty of outdoor activities and stunning scenery to make your time on Skene memorable._

Jaime snorted at that. The place sounded dry as dust, and twice as dull. He liked the outdoors and was perhaps looking forward to exploring the ruins. But scenery to make his time memorable? Jaime was trying to forget this experience before it began. He doubted anything would be ‘stunning’ to his cultured eyes.

_The boat to the mainland is unreliable in winter months. The seas can become rough, and there are times when we will go at least a week or two without seeing anyone from Skagos._

Horror at the mere idea of being STUCK on a tiny island with 821 people, in the dead of winter, with no way off consumed him. Jaime almost felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. He already knew there was no other way on or off the island other than boat.

_Your apartment is a few blocks from the station. It's the ground floor of a two-story house, part of row housing standard on this island with Podrick taking the upper-level apartment. There is plenty of peat for the fire, and the pantry has been fully socked. The police station itself has a backup generator and plenty of fuel to keep us going for weeks should it come down to that._

Where in seven hells had they sent him? A backup generator?

_There is a small vehicle ideal for island use at your disposal._

Jaime had his doubts on what an 'ideal' vehicle was for Skene. Was there even such a thing? The reports he'd found indicated there were almost no well-maintained roads on the island, and most of the residents had some ATV machine – a side by side. They mostly looked like golf carts, just with doors, a roof and sturdier tires.

_Do you ride horses? Never mind, we'll figure that out when you arrive. Please find attached a list of essential clothing items for your stay on the island._

_Until we meet in person,_

_Constable Brienne Tarth_

_Constable Podrick Payne_

The list they'd enclosed seemed endless - everything from three different hats to long underwear, woollen pants and sweaters, t-shirts and swim trucks, windbreakers and winter coats. When he'd gotten to the several different types of footwear deemed 'essential,' he'd willingly handed the list over to someone that his father employed and told them to get it all.

Now in his warm boots and winter coat, Jaime gazed at the island that would be his home for the next two years. He'd kept his apartment in King's Landing, thinking perhaps he might get off the island here and there.

But, given how damn long it took to get to Skene, why the hell would anyone leave?

Even if something was waiting for him in the south.

Which there wasn't.

Addam was married and working on baby #2 with his wife. Arthur was as deep into his career as he’d ever been. Last Jaime had heard, they were tracking down some psycho that was carving women up and dumping their bodies around King's Landing. Jaime itched to be there with his group, in the bullpen with the guys but knew that was just a dream.

There wasn't even a guarantee that he would get his old job back, even if things went perfectly up here at what felt like the very end of Westeros.

 _Gods, he hated the cold_ , he thought, bitterly.

Beyond that, Jaime felt empty thinking about the south. What was there for him? He'd spent his half his life in love with a woman that had used him, belittled him and never seen him as enough. Jaime Lannister, a dedicated policeman, had never been enough for Cersei. That was the cold, hard truth.

Briefly, he tried to examine his feelings for Cersei, wondering if there was any love left there, but it was all gone, replaced only by bitterness and anger – both at her but perhaps more at himself.

Jaime hated that he'd embarrassed his father, his family, his colleagues. He'd worked hard to earn his place on the squad, but he'd wiped that out with his involvement with her. And deeper, in a small, tiny part of his heart he rarely examined, was the disappointment that he had given up his own chance at a family to chase a woman that had never really wanted him for him. She’d been using him during their entire relationship, and only now, could he see that. 

Sighing, he saw the pier, where the small ferry would dock and a rather large woman with shockingly bright blonde hair waiting for him. She had to be as large as him and was wearing an orange jacket. That had to be Brienne Tarth, his fellow police officer on this minuscule island.

She greeted him with a firm handshake and asked how the trip was.

“Good,” was all he could say, stunned by the size of her. Jaime himself was no slouch, at almost 6’2, but she had even a few inches on him. She appeared to be a few years past thirty, perhaps thirty-one or thirty-two. 

She told him she was there to help him with his suitcases, knowing the rest of his things would be waiting for him at his new temporary residence or sent later as per the arrangements he'd made, and then give him an introduction to life on Skene.

Their first stop was the little police station, in the village where Jaime would be living.

"There are outposts of residents all around the island. Some people like to live off-grid, others are just too miserable for the company. But this is the main village. More than half of the 821 residents live here," she told him, a proud tilt to her chin.

Jaime knew if he were to make a joke about her home, he'd set the wrong tone for his time here with Brienne.

He might think they were at the very edge of civilization, but clearly, she loved this island and the people.

Jaime gave her what he hoped was a charming smile, and saw Constable Brienne Tarth blush.

"I'm looking forward to meeting everyone," Jaime said.

That, at least, was the truth. Jaime had always found people fascinating, and those here were sure to be a sense of wonder to him. What possessed anyone to live here, willingly? He was eager to find out.

She parked the side by side on a narrow road, full of cobblestones, which charmed Jaime and led him into the tiniest police station he'd ever seen. They had two cells and an open space where three desks were scattered, a little kitchen and a small office that said _Chief_ on the door – clearly his new digs _._

He stepped inside and saw on his new desk a coffee mug, an official Skene police windbreaker and his new badge. Oddly touched by how neat it was, and seeing the eager and welcoming grin on the other man's face, Jaime smiled.

"Hi, I'm Jaime,” he said holding out his hand for a shake.

"Podrick. We're really excited to you have here on Skene, Detective Lannister."

There was some hero worship in Podrick’s eyes for him, and while Jaime was sure he didn't deserve it, it warmed something in him. He'd realized he'd been worried about being judged by his new colleagues. The jury was still out on Brienne, but it seemed he had a fan in Pod.

Jaime shook his head.

"Not a detective now, Podrick."

Pod shrugged as if Jaime's spectacular fall from grace meant little to him, and Jaime took an instant liking to him. Pod was perhaps twenty-six or seven, and Jaime would bet hadn’t been doing this job for too long. 

Brienne went over a few basics of the station, handed him some keys and then ushered him out of the station towards his new home.

The door was painted bright blue, and the inside filled with clean but clearly used furniture. There was a real, working fireplace, and Brienne squatted right down to show Jaime how to light the peat.

"You'll want to keep it going. It can get drafty here on Skene," she said.

Jaime snorted.

_Drafty._

That was an understatement.

The wind was fucking howling.

"There is a stack outside of peat, and Pod's just upstairs if you need help."

She showed him the tiny kitchen, a good-sized master bedroom with a king bed, and a second room with a twin bed. There was one tiny bathroom and a small space with a desk, couch, television and a few bookshelves, stacked with novels.

It was … cozy, Jaime realized, and unlike anywhere he'd previously lived.

Thanking Brienne, she helped him haul his suitcases down the narrow hallway to his bedroom, and then they were on the move. She was saying daylight was wasting, and she had much to show him.

Resigned to the fact that this was now his life, Jaime snatched a toque for his head and pulled on a warmer coat, before following Brienne out.

The afternoon that was getting greyer and darker by the moment, and realizing that he'd have to learn to cook if he were going to survive his two years on this island, Jaime wondered if Brienne could point him in the direction of the market, and prepared to settle into his new life in the North.

* * *

_ January – Jaime Meets Buttercup  _

When Jaime arrived at the station on his second day on Skene, his first official one as the Chief of Police to this tiny island, he discovered a small lamb curled up just outside the door.

It had already been a hellish morning.

Jaime had barely figured out how to use the ancient stove to try and boil some water for coffee. He realized he was missing a few necessary items, such as a kettle. And a microwave.

Sometime in the night, the fire had gone out, so the floors in his home had been so cold he'd hurriedly pulled some slippers on and shivered through trying to get it lit again.

There was electric heat, but Brienne said it was expensive and didn't really do the job correctly.

“You’ll want the peat; it’ll warm you straight through,” she’d explained and hadn’t been wrong. Jaime had been frozen all morning.

And after all of that, he'd realized that a garden hose had more pressure than his showerhead.

All in all, not the most promising start to his morning.

And now this.

Wildlife.

In front of the very door, he had to enter to get to work.

Fuck, he didn’t even have a gun up here; there were a few rifles in the police safe, but Brienne said they weren’t needed. Jaime had felt naked without his 9mm strapped to his hip, but such was life on Skene.

Jaime had tried shooing it away, but it had merely bleated at him.

He stared at it.

The lamb stared back.

Jaime made a loud, clapping noise, unsure what else he might do to get it to move.

It bleated again and then put its head down as if to ignore him.

Jaime stood there, staring in stupefaction at the little animal that was out to ruin his second day.

A cheery voice called from over Jaime's shoulder as he stood there trying to figure out how not to be late on his first day of work.

"Oi! Buttercup. What are you doing out? Sandor's going to be right pissed when he finds out you escaped again."

Jaime breathed a sigh of relief to see Pod's happy face. He would know what to do with this... animal.

For a brief moment, Jaime was, perhaps, slightly captivated by its soft-looking wool, but then the blasted thing rose up and almost ran to Pod like a dog, wagging its little body when it had soundly ignored Jaime.

Put out, Jaime opened the door the station, trying to ignore the sense of frustration he'd had when the lamb had run to Pod but not moved for him.

It had been explained to him that between the three of them - himself, Pod and Brienne, they kept regular hours at the little police station, and there was a rotation of who was on call in the evenings and weekends. 

"We shut the station down at 5 pm each night and open it in the mornings."

Jaime had thought he'd entered another world with that bit of news.

Brienne had said it was rare when the police were needed after hours.

"Often if we are needed, it's because someone's tied one too many on at the pub, and we're there anyway."

For Jaime, it was like policing in an alternate universe and one he wasn't familiar with at all. His entire career had been spent in big cities. First Lannisport and then King’s Landing. 

On his tour yesterday he'd seen the pub. There was only one the island, along with the grocery store, a few shops featuring some local artisans, a small school that served all grades, a fire station that had one truck that seemed older than Jaime himself and a few more businesses in town.

There was a tiny harbour where the ferry had dropped him off, with several fishing boats and cottages that dotted the rolling hills that rose about the village that was nestled up against the Shivering Sea.

They'd done a brief tour, with Brienne showing him where some of the farmers and artisans lived. She had pointed out the lighthouse and some of the areas that were popular with the tourists off in the distance. And she'd shoved a map into his hands.

"Ancient ruins, puffins and whale watching bring the tourists in by the thousands in the summer," she'd explained.

"Val and Jon Snow run the only tourist outfit on the island, as well as selling goat products."

"Goat… products?"

Where in the hell was he?

"Soap, lotion, milk," Brienne had said, not even slowing down as they'd cruised in the side by side that was one of two 'official' police vehicles for the island. It was a glorified golf cart as far as Jaime could tell.

"Davos does the whale watching tours when the whales come through, but there are strict rules about how close he can get."

"To the tourists?"

Jaime's brain felt like a pile of porridge with the amount of information Brienne was downloading on him. Why couldn’t Davos get close to the tourists?

Brienne had simply hummed. “To the whales.”

Jaime’s eyes had widened.

"Yup. We protect our wildlife. Same with the puffins, otters, cranes and other birds that use the island for migratory purposes."

Jaime had never been allowed any type of animal growing up, so when Brienne had so casually mentioned the many, many, many animals that lived on Skene, Jaime hadn't realized that they might be part of his day to day life.

Now he was face to face with one, as the lamb pranced happily on the street as Pod spoke to it.

For the hundredth time, Jaime wondered precisely what he'd gotten himself into by coming here.

Was his career worth this?

Pod was laughing as he shared his muffin with the lamb, which had followed them into the station.

"I'll start the coffee, yeah? You watch Buttercup."

Jaime put his bag on his desk and stared down at the lamb, that was now leaning against him.

It was named Buttercup.

Of course.

He couldn't help the little grin that split his face. None of the guys down in King's Landing would believe his first official act as Chief would be babysitting a lamb.

Jaime gratefully took the cup of bad coffee ( _was there any other kind in a police station_?) from Pod and asked who their little escapee belonged to.

Pod grinned and said, "Sandor Clegane."

That was how Jaime found himself and Buttercup, loaded into his little golf cart type contraption and a map to Sandor Clegane's farm. The man lived outside of the main village, and Pod had said it would be an excellent opportunity for Jaime to meet one of the more ''colourful” island residents. Sandor was a farmer, a man in his mid-thirties who didn’t like visitors. Lovely. 

Jaime had snorted at Pod’s description. 

Colourful. That was one word to describe the band of lunatics he'd met so far.

Oddly enough, Jaime had thought most people living here would be like him – outcast to this insignificant island, miserable at having to live here.

Shockingly though, it seemed that most had either been born and raised here and had chosen to stay. Or they'd come for a visit and never left. Either way, it was a willing choice. That had floored him.

Jaime put the odd little vehicle into gear, as Buttercup gave an excited bleat as if she were excited to be going on this short trip. He was shaking his head at his first official duty as the Chief of Police on the island.

The map he had, laminated since Brienne said the rain would ruin any paper that wasn't protected, had a red circle where this Sandor Clegane had his farm.

All Pod had said about the man was that he had cows, chickens and sheep. And that he wasn't 'keen' on visitors.

"But, I'm sure he'll be fine since you're returning Buttercup."

Jaime had faced down murderers, rapists, thieves, and some genuinely despicable people in King's Landing. How scary could this Sandor Clegane be?

Jaime took only two wrong turns as he puttered along the road out of the village and into the countryside that surrounded the village.

Finally thinking he had it figured, because Skene wasn't exactly on Google Maps, Jaime saw a white farmhouse, bordered by fields full of happily grazing animals.

It was picturesque, Jaime gave it that.

When he got closer to the farm, he saw the chicken coops and dozens upon dozens of the birds, and the largest man he'd ever seen lumbering about.

Buttercup bleated happily and almost danced in the seat, and Jaime just shook his head as he pulled up. Grateful he had on sturdy hiking boots, he flashed a smile at the man who was scowling at him. With no indication he was welcome, Jaime opened the door, and Buttercup hopped out.

"I think I have something that's yours," Jaime said, trying another affable smile.

The man grunted and shook his head.

"Fucking stubborn lamb," he said, but there was no heat. Jaime watched as the lamb all but pranced over to Sandor and butted against him, as he laid a massive hand on her head and gave her ears a scratch.

"Thanks," the big man finally said, turning to look at Jaime, head-on. It was only years of meeting all sorts of people in King's Landing that allowed Jaime to keep his face neutral. Half the man's face was covered in a horrible scar.

"I'm the new Police Chief," Jaime said, walking closer to him, taking a look around the farm, so he didn't make Sandor feel uncomfortable. The one thing Jaime was very, very good at in his job, was making people feel at ease. It was no different with Sandor.

The farm was neat and tidy for a farm, clearly a one or two-person operation. There were barns, and pens, and an old tractor that looked like it had been lovingly maintained. It smelled, Jaime realized, but not unpleasantly. He'd had worse odours on patrol those first few years in King's Landing with Addam in Flea Bottom.

"You're a Lannister," the man said, a scowl on his face.

Jaime wondered how he knew that and why it mattered. He thought about his very public fall from grace and knew it shouldn't surprise him that everyone knew who he was. Even here. On Skene.

"I'm from the West," the man mumbled, and Jaime realized that it wasn't because of Cersei's betrayal that he knew who he was, but because they were from the same region down south.

Jaime just gave him a nod, leaving that uncomfortable topic for another day.

"Why does she escape?"

Buttercup was chasing some of the chickens now, as both men looked at her. Sandor removed his hat and scratched at his hair.

"Don't rightly fucking know. She was born at the wrong time; mother didn't make it. The breeding was all fucked up and not planned. Had to bottle feed her for the first few weeks of her life, so she was in the house with me."

Jaime was trying to process the lengths this man had gone to for a single animal. It was staggering.

"Well, she made it to the station this morning," Jaime said by way of explanation.

"Thanks."

An awkward silence descended between the two men, and Jaime shuffled his feet.

"Well, umm, see you around," Jaime said and turned back towards his vehicle.

Jaime was almost back into his vehicle when he heard Sandor mumble, "Maybe I'll see you in the pub. Later."

Warmth spread through Jaime.

It seemed he made his first friend on Skene. A grouchy farmer with the cutest lamb Jaime had ever seen.

* * *

_ January – Jaime Goes to the Pub _

Jaime spent the rest of his day figuring out how things worked on Skene when it came to policing. As Brienne had noted, it appeared most of the infractions were about people drinking too much, lost tourists, the occasional misplaced pet and a man named Tormund that insisted on setting off spectacular fireworks for his students each June on the beaches.

Since there were thousands of miles of beaches around the island, the trick was trying to determine where he might light them off. And stop him before he could follow through. Apparently, it had become something of a game.

Brienne had blushed bright red when Pod had mentioned this Tormund character, and relief coursed through Jaime, at the big woman's apparent interest in this fellow. Tormund was thirty-eight, six years older than Brienne. 

Yesterday there had been moments when he'd felt Brienne looking at him with something that went a bit more than mere speculation. Now to see her stammer when Tormund Giantsbane's name was mentioned, Jaime would move heaven and earth to make sure he nudged her in that direction. There was no way Jaime was looking for romance on Skene. 

Podrick was as cheerful and as eager as Jaime had first thought, and he happily showed Jaime around the little village, claiming the best way to see it was by foot.

They made their way down to the harbour, where Davos was just getting back from his morning fishing trip, loaded down with the day's catch. The older man gave Jaime a quick nod and then looked at Podrick, asking if he'd been by to see Marya.

"Davos's wife runs the café/restaurant in town, and that's whose muffin I was eating this morning," Pod said by way of explanation.

Jaime's face broke out into a grin as he clapped Pod on the back. "So, you're telling me I won't starve?"

Pod laughed, and even Davos cracked a smile.

"I imagine if you put your mind to it, you'd have more than one lady willing to feed you, Chief Lannister."

"Jaime," he corrected, his face losing its happy look.

While Jaime was well over Cersei, his love for her finally fully extinguished; he was not in a place or mindset to start anything with anyone. He didn't trust his judgement when it came right down to it. And even here at the ends of Westeros, what had happened to him was known. He preferred to lick his wounds in private, and he didn't know when he might be ready to let anyone else into his life again.

Seeing Jaime's face close down, neither Pod and Davos said anything more about Jaime dating, both men instead asking if he was coming to the pub that night.

"Is it a nightly thing?" Jaime asked, wondering. "Sandor mentioned it as well."

Davos arched an eyebrow. "You've met Sandor?" Jaime could tell the man was impressed.

Pod chuckled. "Jaime met Buttercup. I insisted he bring her back to Sandor. Didn't know Sandor invited him to the pub."

Davos shook his head, and Jaime swore he muttered, _interfering lad._

"What am I missing?" Jaime asked.

One of his best skills he'd honed over the years was his ability to read body language. And right now, it felt like there was an entire conversation going on around him – and he didn't know the subtext.

"Well, Sandor's a mean old dog," Pod said. "I half expected you to come back and take my head for sending you out there. Now to hear he's invited you out for pub night…" Pod shrugged. "It's good."

"And to answer your question, Chief Jaime, tonight is book club. So all the women of the island will pile into Val's big house and gossip and drink wine and talk about the men, while we meet at the pub."

Jaime mulled over the concept of the women being so close that they met once a month, finding he liked it, as he and Pod continued their walk through the village.

Jaime waved to the only doctor in town, noting that Pod blushed red, stammered and hurried to open the door for her. When they were alone, Jaime just gave the younger man a look.

"That's Wyn. She's great," Pod said wistfully, and Jaime wondered if there was something there, or if his new friend was barking up the wrong tree, as they said. Wyn was about Pod’s age, maybe a year or two older. 

Pod pointed out dozens of little storefronts, some of them closed now.

"Loads of them only open in the tourist seasons. We have some that are here year-round. Dacey Mormont is probably the most successful. Her family has been on the island for hundreds of years."

Dacey had both a shop and a studio, and Jaime peered inside, seeing the exceptional talent of the woman. Again, she was of a similar age as Pod and Wyn, making Jaime feel ridiculously old at forty-six. He made a note to perhaps purchase something for his father and ship it to the Rock, thinking his Dad might appreciate that.

Jaime found the collection of artists on this island fascinating. There was everything from pottery to sculpture, painting to weavers.

Skene also had a tiny little museum/library building that was being run by Maege Mormont, Dacey's Mom.

"But she's been looking for a replacement – wants to return home to Bear Island. It's not a full-time thing, so it's been hard."

They continued the tour by Pod pointing out the vet’s office, saying that it was run by a man named Gendry. It was yet another young professional, about thirty, which seemed to be the predominant age of the main residents on the island. 

They finished the tour by Pod pointing out the local school, which held all ages. 

"We don't interrupt, but several times a year, they have us do presentations and come and interact with the children."

"How many are there?" Jaime asked, charmed despite himself.

"Ummmm, I think about 125 or so." Pod shrugged as if it didn't much matter, and Jaime was trying to wrap his head around such a small, intimate place.

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing paperwork, going over procedures and getting to know Brienne a bit better when she came in that afternoon.

Jaime discovered she'd taken the job on Skene when the harassment in the Stormland precinct had become too much.

"Chief Mormont was a good man," she told Jaime, meeting his eyes in a challenge. "It didn't matter that I was a woman, as long as I could do the job."

Gauntlet clearly laid down, and knowing where her loyalty lay, Jaime nodded.

"Some of the best cops in my life were women," was all he said, every word true.

Brienne gave him a curt nod before she sighed and picked up the novel for the book club.

"Romance," she shuddered, saying goodnight as she made her way out to Val Snow's house.

When 5 pm rolled around, Jaime was startled to see that it was dark. When he mentioned this to Pod, the young man had smiled indulgently at him.

"We're North, Jaime. Not like the south. Up here, we're lucky if we get seven hours of daylight in the winter. But it could be worse," he said as he locked up.

"Worse? How?" Jaime asked.

"We could get snow," Pod said, grinning like a maniac.

Laughing, Jaime followed him the few blocks over to the pub. Upon entering, something settled in Jaime. Cops and pubs went together like police and lousy coffee. It felt almost familiar here, and Jaime was pleased to see both Sandor and Davos already there, along with a few others he hadn't yet met.

The dark-haired man with a firm handshake was Gendry Waters, the local vet.

There was another guy, with dark hair, but skinny. His name was Edd Tollett, the local fire chief. He told Jaime he'd have him by the station to "talk shop," soon and Jaime found himself liking him. Edd was closer to Sandor’s age, which put Jaime a bit more at ease. 

An ancient man, with white hair, nursed a single beer. He gave Jaime a warm smile.

"Aemon Targaryen, local historian," he said, seemingly pleased to be included in this little group. Even Jaime could see the care the others took with him.

The publican, a loud, brash man named Bronn Blackwater, came through the kitchen door, throwing a towel over his shoulder. He took one look at Jaime and hooted. 

"So the fancy fucking cop that was fucking the mayor's wife finally made his way North," Bronn said. It was the first time that someone had come right and said why Jaime was here.

Deciding not to be offended, Jaime just nodded.

"That's me. Fucked eight ways from Sunday, both literally and figuratively."

Bronn threw his head back and laughed, clapping Jaime on the back. "Fucking good to have you, Chief.” Despite Bronn ‘outing’ him, Jaime liked the publican, who appeared in his late thirties. 

Jaime's answer surprised even himself, as he found himself grinning, welcomed to this motley little group.

"Good to be here."

It seemed the issue of why he'd been chased out of King's Landing had been addressed, commented on, and then dismissed.

Jaime had just taken a seat when a man burst into the pub, three red-headed girls following behind him.

"That's Tormund," Pod said, leaning closer to the Jaime.

The teacher with the fireworks and whom had a crush on Brienne. No one had said anything about him being a father as he got his girls set up with their homework and hearty bowls of beef stew.

"Kids can be in pubs?" Jaime asked, sotto voice to Pod, who nodded.

"Oh, yeah. It's a family, place, right?" Pod said as if that explained it all. That would never fly down south, Jaime knew. But Skene was not the south as he was fast discovering.

Jaime turned his attention back to Tormund's family, wondering if the man knew how lucky he was.

The youngest, who couldn't be more than five, keep throwing Jaime shy smiles, and he grinned back at her. His biggest regret in his life was missing out on having a family. Jaime loved kids and had wanted several of his own.

Distracted by Tormund's daughter, Jaime missed the big hand that clamped down on his shoulder.

"Lion!" Tormund roared, seemingly extremely happy to have Jaime here.

"Hello," Jaime answered. These people just kept throwing him for a loop with their easy acceptance of him.

Tormund seemed fascinated with Jaime and pulled his seat up close, asking him several questions, many that bordered on way too personal. Within moments, seeing her father talking to Jaime, Tormund's youngest daughter came over, shyly rocking back and forth on her heels, before Tormund scooped her up and sat her on his lap.

"This is Chief Jaime," Tormund told her, tickling her tummy.

"You look like a golden prince," she lisped, and Jaime realized she was missing a tooth in the front.

He grinned at her, just as the pub door opened again, and a handsome, if a harried man entered. Jaime knew he was a good-looking guy, but this one took the cake. His dark curls were dishevelled, he had a baby strapped to his chest and another little blond girl clutching his hand, holding onto her doll.

"SNOW" Jaime’s new friends cried, and Jaime realized this must be Jon Snow. The man was probably about thirty, and clearly well loved here. 

Jon flashed them a grin, and Jaime watched in utter fascination as the little girl rocketed towards Sandor, leaving her father’s side.

"Uncle Sandy!" she cried, as Sandor had her up and on his lap.

She was talking to him fast, something about her goats, and sneaking fries from his plate, as Sandor just smiled indulgently at her. Suddenly a mystery that had been on Jaime's mind solved itself – who had named Sandor Clegane's lost little lamb Buttercup. It had to be this little girl that had Sandor wrapped around her little finger.

Jon took an open seat beside Tormund and scowled a bit at Jaime as if he were not welcome.

"Crow, lose the fucking frown," Tormund said, shaking his head at Jon. "This is the lion detective from down south. The one that was fucking that nasty woman."

Jaime sighed, pinching the space between his eyes.

First Bronn.

Now Tormund.

He supposed it was better that it all came out now, and then perhaps they could all move past this.

"Hi, I'm Jaime, the new Chief of Police."

"Jon."

"He's just grumpy because he was good friends with the last Chief,” Tormund said.

Jaime said nothing. He got it. He was an outsider.

"And where is the previous Chief?" Jaime knew it would be awkward if they were just to run into one another, unannounced.

Tormund waved a hand.

"Bah. He went back to Bear Island to be with his family. The crow will get over it. He just doesn't like that there is someone as handsome as him on the island now," Tormund finished, winking at Jon and Jaime and taking a long pull from his pint.

Jaime felt relief that the beloved former Chief was gone. It would give him a chance to win over some of these people. Not that he was staying. This was strictly a two-year gig to get his career in King’s Landing back. He'd worked too damn hard to waste the rest of his life on this spit of land. Still, not having the former chief here was a nice break.

Settling back, Jaime sipped his beer and watched the men of Skene interact. It was clear this was a regular thing, for Jon and Tormund's daughters were all but passed around, comfortable with those that were here. Tough, hardened men melted under their demands, and Jaime noted how closely Jon kept an eye on old Aemon.

When the old guy fell asleep, Jon gathered his daughter, as the baby had snoozed away the entire time and gently guided him outside to take him home.

"Who is he?" Jaime asked Tormund, knowing the Wildling would give him answers.

Tormund shook his head sadly.

"His only family. His mom got knocked up by some married twat when she was down south. She was only twenty-one. His old man denied that he was his father his entire life. Old Aemon is Jon's great uncle."

Jaime briefly remembered a scandal involved Rhaegar and Elia Targaryen and rumours of the man stepping out on Elia. Still, he'd been so wrapped up in making detective and trying not to fall for Cersei he hadn't paid attention. His father, who had been very close with Aerys Targaryen when they were younger, had a massive fallout with the family, and as such, Jaime hardly paid them much attention. Apparently Jon was the result of Rhaegar’s affair. 

"He's a good guy," Tormund said, and then was distracted as two of his daughters got into a fight. Regretfully he bid Jaime goodnight and went to gather them up.

Himself having had enough socialization, patted Pod on the back and said he'd see him at work tomorrow. As Jaime stepped out into the crisp, chilly night, he took a moment to look up.

And gasped. The entire sky was inky black, darker than he'd ever seen and littered with millions of stars. For once, there was no wind, so he took his time as he walked back to his temporary abode. It had been nice meeting with some of the men of Skene, tonight. Not like the comradery that he had with his old squad mates down in King's Landing, but friendly.

Perhaps being here wouldn't be so miserable.

Maybe he'd survive Skene after all.

* * *

_February – Jaime’s first winter storm_

Jaime watched in stunned wonder as the entire island entered 'winter storm mode' when a new weather system was announced that was forecast to hit the island within a few hours. Brienne had him help haul cots out, stating that they would be spending the night at the station, in case of emergency.

Not really knowing what to expect, Jaime had asked question after question until he was satisfied they'd survive this storm.

Brienne had shown him where all the extra supplies were, including water, fuel, food and blankets. They'd checked their radios, gassed up the vehicles, and had spoken to hundreds of residents on the island.

Most were amused to see Jaime giving them advice, although he did get a few grateful smiles from some of the female inhabitants. And one very cheeky invite to 'ride the storm out' with Ygritte, who owned the local grocery store. She was a red-haired woman, in her early thirties. 

Brienne had dragged him away from her little cottage, muttering that something was going on between Bronn and Ygritte, and if Jaime didn't want to piss off every male island, he'd stay far away from that temptress.

Jaime grinned. She scowled at him.

"You used the word temptress in a sentence. Impressive Brienne."

Still, Jaime appreciated the heads up when it came to females that were 'available.' So far as he could tell, there weren't many.

Pod had a crush on Wyn.

Bronn had … something going on with Ygritte.

Gendry had gone off about Dacey during pub night. 

Jon was married to Val, whom Jaime had yet to meet, but he’d heard all about the golden couple of Skene. 

Tormund made cow eyes at Brienne each chance he got.

And Sandor? Well, the man had muttered something about a school teacher that used his wool to make sweaters named Jeyne. 

The very last thing Jaime ever wanted to do, or even be accused of in his life was poaching another man's woman. And truthfully? He just wasn't up to the dating game, and taking a chance on anyone. He was enjoying being single and was almost resigned to being a bachelor – and celibate for the next two years. Skene was too small for him to have a fling with a local, and random hookups never really did it for Jaime.

Maybe when he was back in King's Landing, he'd find the right woman for him.

Now though, as he weathered (pun intended) the storm with Brienne and Pod, listening to the winds howl and the rain pelt down, he wondered if they’d lose power. Despite being north, Skene rarely got snow.

When it was all said and done, power was out to the island for three days, and Jaime had to throw out most of the food in his fridge.

He went to Ygritte's store, Buttercup at his heels to replenish what he’d lost. He grinned at the little lamb. She'd shown up on night two of the storm and had hunkered down with them at the station. Jaime still hadn't had a chance to return her to Sandor.

She followed Jaime into the store as he got his cart. He had become much more adept at feeding himself in the six weeks he'd lived here. Fast food did not exist on Skene, although he was good for a cinnamon bun a day at Marya's café.

It was clear that the boat from the mainland hadn't been by, as the grocery store's selection was slim. Frowning when he got to the meat section, Jaime looked down in horror at the only options.

Rack of lamb.

Muttonchops.

Lamb chops. 

Buttercup let out a mournful bleat, and Jaime felt the gorge rise.

There was no way in hell he could eat … gods – _what if that were her family?_

Turning away, Jaime vowed only to eat chicken, beef and pork.

Ygritte snickered at him when he unloaded his groceries, wondering where his meat was.

He shook his head, feeling ill. "I can't."

She frowned. "Why not?"

 _Gods, she was a crass thing_ , he thought.

Then he made the mistake of glancing down at Buttercup, who stared at him adoringly.

"Just… I can't."

Ygritte smirked.

And that was how the rumour of Jaime Lannister becoming a vegetarian spread like wildfire on Skene, as he exited the little grocery store, with not a single selection of meat in his bags and a happy lamb, trotting by his side.

* * *

_ March – Jaime goes to Jon and Val's farm  _

In his two months on the island, Jaime had heard all about Jon and Val Snow – so much so that he had dubbed them the King and Queen of Skene. Other than seeing Jon at the monthly pub nights when the women had book club, Jon mostly kept out of Jaime's way.

It wasn't far off for Jaime to consider them close to royalty on the island. Val was a lifelong resident here and at twenty-nine the Queen Bee of Skene. Her family traced their roots back thousands of years to this tiny spit of land, and her father manned the only lighthouse on the island. Jaime had yet to meet Mance Rayder, as he was a recluse that kept to himself. Jon was looked upon like some kind of hero here to these people, for reasons Jaime had yet to figure out.

It was clear that Jon wasn't Jaime's biggest fan, and Jaime chalked it up to the fact that Jeor Mormont and Jon had been extremely close before the old Chief had been forced into retirement.

When Jon came to town, which was often, with one or both of his daughters by his side, he would give Jaime a polite nod, but nothing more. It was clear that Jon was a happy man, with a beautiful wife and a thriving business, but that he had no time for Jaime.

Despite Jon's cold shoulder, it hadn't taken Jaime long to convert to using the products the island locals made, and Jon was always happy to make a delivery for his wife's business.

Except when it came to Jaime. He remained aloof and reserved, and for the life of him, Jaime had no idea how he might get Jon to warm up to him.

The pub nights, which Jaime now held as almost sacred, where he got to hang out with the guys and their children, were some of the best times here, even if Jon didn't say much to him. It still made Jaime feel like he was a part of something.

Most nights, Jaime could be found at the pub with Pod, Bronn, Gendry and Sandor, but it was nice when all the guys could be there. Jaime didn't always say much, but it was fascinating to watch how the others interacted. He no longer felt like quite the outsider and knew with tourist season set to ramp up, feeling like a local was a good thing.

When Brienne gave Jaime a permit to that had to be run out to Jon and Val's farm, she insisted that he go.

Jaime grumbled. He'd yet to meet Val, whom he heard was stunningly beautiful, and Jon did not like him.

“Jon doesn’t like me,” he’d mumbled, knowing he sounded like a petulant child.

"All the more reason for you to make an effort," Brienne had gently chided him.

The woman was fucking relentless- there would be no getting out of it. He snatched up the permit, his good mood evaporating instantly.

When Jaime opened the front door the station, he practically tipped over Buttercup. Lately, the lamb, who had grown, had been coming around more and more.

Jaime didn't even blink when he noticed the harness she had on, turning back into the station to grab her leash and slipping it onto the metal ring.

"Let's go give grumpy Jon Snow his permit for the tourist season," he told Buttercup, who affectionally butted his stomach. He grinned at her, liking his companion. True to his word, Jaime hadn’t eaten lamb in weeks.

Jaime had tried to explain Buttercup to his father and brother one evening on their weekly skype call, but both men had thought Jaime was losing his mind.

 _Perhaps he was_ , he thought, as he opened the door to the side by side, and she hopped in. She bleated happily as Jaime started the vehicle and then went in the opposite direction of Sandor's farm. Val and Jon lived a fair distance out of town, halfway between the lighthouse and the village, and Jaime had heard nothing but incredible things about their farm.

Nothing Jaime was doing as the Chief of Police on Skene could even be considered in the same realm as his life back down in King’s Landing.

Jaime crested the small hill, and his breath caught as the spread below him. Green as far as the eyes could see, goats in the pasture, and a blue house with two stories, surrounded by a garden.

It was a gorgeous property, Jaime could admit.

The island had grown on him, and three months in, he began to understand why people lived here and made a life here. There was something unique about it, and nobody seemed to much care about the giant screw up he'd been down in King's Landing.

Nobody but Jon Snow.

Gunning the engine a bit, he swore Buttercup grinned as he pulled into the yard of Val and Jon's house. He'd barely killed the engine when the door banged open, and the little blond-haired girl, whom Jaime had found out was named Lyanna, came bursting out.

"Chief Jaime!" she cried, and then her eyes widened as she spotted her beloved Buttercup. "You brought her for a visit."

Jaime hadn't, but never one to break anyone's heart, he nodded. "I did."

Jaime was just about to ask where her parents were, when Jon stepped outside, eying Jaime warily.

Fuck, he wished he knew how to make things better between them. So far, Jon was the only person that had not warmed to him. It was frustrating.

As if she knew her husband's displeasure, a beautiful blond-haired woman, cradling their baby, joined Jon. She smiled warmly at Jaime.

"Welcome to our little slice of paradise, Chief Jaime. I'm Val Snow. Sorry, we haven't met before now."

She called for Lyannna to come into the house, and gently guided Jon in before her, leaving Jaime no choice but to follow them. When he entered, he saw Jon take the baby from his wife, and then Val turned into the perfect hostess, smiling brightly at him.

"So, what can we do for you, Chief?"

Jaime thrust the permit towards her. "Here. Brienne asked me to bring it by."

Val clapped her hands and thanked him and then asked if he wanted coffee. Jon's scowl deepened, so Jaime, of course, said yes. Sensing the tension between the two men, Val finally stepped in with a sigh.

"I need to make a fresh pot. Jon, why don't you show Jaime the goats?"

It wasn't a suggestion, and both men knew it. Jaime followed Jon out into the yard again, this time alone, as a heavy silence descended between them.

Finally, unable to stand it, Jaime blurted out, "What do you hate me so much?"

Startled, Jon shook his head, but Jaime gave him a pointed look.

"Snow, I've spent half my career reading body language. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. Why?"

Jon heaved out an aggrieved sigh, as Buttercup came around the bend, bleating happily when she saw Jaime.

"Even the animals like me," Jaime said, although he was eyeing the goats warily.

"I was on the mainland, with my Uncle Aemon for an appointment when the scandal with you broke. Didn't think much of it, other than you just seemed like some rich prick that was fucking some other rich guy's wife."

Too late Jaime thought about what he knew of Jon, and how Rhaegar had abandoned his mother after cheating on his wife. No wonder Jon hated him. 

Still, that wasn't Jaime's fault, and none of Cersei's kids were his. Plus, Robert had been a giant douche nugget.

But Jon didn't know any of their histories, and quite honestly, the story had made Jaime look like a world-class asshole.

Jon shrugged.

"Honestly, beyond the initial story, I didn't even think about you, Jaime. What did I care that you were a cheating bastard? But then Jeor had that scare with his heart, and suddenly, one of my mentors, the man who all but stepped in to raise me, was retiring and talking about leaving the island. And who the fuck do we get to replace him? You."

Jon sneered the last word.

"He's worth ten of you, Jaime. So sorry if I don't buy your wounded puppy dog routine. She was married. You knew it. I fucking hate cheaters.”

Jaime could have told Jon about his entire history with Cersei – the play of emotion, the abuse by Robert, the philandering of her husband, how many times he’d tried to step back. But he sensed that wouldn't be welcomed.

So instead, he nodded.

"Fair enough. I made a mistake, and I paid for it."

That appeared to startle Jon, and he gave Jaime a look.

Jaime shrugged.

"You know who my father is. I didn't have to work. Still don't. My trust fund could buy your beloved Skene, Jon. But my entire life, all I ever wanted was to be a cop and to have a family. I'm not the first man to fall in love with the wrong women. But I'm paying for it. Tell your wife thanks but I'll take a rain cheque on the coffee. See you around".

With that, Jaime whistled for Buttercup and made his way to his vehicle. Truthfully, Jon's assumptions about him hurt, but Jaime had expected more of them on Skene. He’d grown soft, being so accepted here. 

Perhaps in time, they might move past it. Or they wouldn't.

Jon Snow had some deep wounds from what his father had done to his mother, and Jaime wasn't about to become another man's martyr.

He'd fucked up loving Cersei, and he'd paid a heavy price. And that was all Jaime was willing to give Jon Snow. He'd be polite and professional, but that was it.

Jaime was done being seen as either a victim or as a bastard.

He'd loved and lost.

He'd been fucked over.

He was paying the price.

And that was all the explanation he owed anyone.

Buttercup nudged him, and Jaime smiled, sinking his fingers into her warm wool. Deciding to run her back to Sandor, Jaime gave a little grin. His life wasn't perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been, and maybe, just maybe, Skene was where Jaime needed to be.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> The rest of Jaime's year on Skene


	4. The rest of Jaime’s year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Jaime's year on the island and Sansa arrives

* * *

_ [Picset by brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/620369982041325568/beautiful) _

_ [Picset by Birdebee](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/620330529186775040/this-is-so-beautiful-i-am-so-excited-to-begin-to) _

* * *

_ April – Jaime and the puffins _

Jaime sipped his coffee, watching in amusement as Pod excitedly took the call from Mance that the first puffins had been spotted on the far north end of the island. He had been handed a book a few weeks ago about the funny little birds, and while Jaime had never loved reading, he'd read it cover to cover.

Puffins were a big deal on this island, especially in the last decade, when their numbers had been on a steady decline. The birds, their nests and the entire area where they returned were protected. Jaime had spent a few days with Brienne and Pod putting signs up warning people back from the rocky cliffs where their colonies were.

He'd yet to see one in the flesh, so to speak, but had learned that it was the male puffin that built the nest, and had strong 'nest-site fidelity.' As far as Jaime could tell, that meant that they were loyal little guys, who picked their mate and didn't stray. They dug a small burrow in soft soil, lined their nest with materials such as grass, leaves and feathers and then laid a single egg.

Jaime learned that puffins formed long term pair bonds, or relationships with each other, while both parents incubated the egg and then stayed to feed their puffling. Everything about the little birds, from their brightly coloured beaks when they were breeding, to their feeding habits by diving into the ocean fascinated him, and Jaime understood why tourists flocked to Skene to see them.

He was proud that Skene protected the little birds, and was excited to see them. Now it seemed they'd begun to arrive, and soon the island would see an influx of people. Funnily enough, Jaime didn't know how he felt about that.

In the four months that Jaime had been on Skene he'd become oddly attached to the people and the island itself. He was accepted here, in a way he'd never been anywhere else. Even things with Jon had eased slightly – they'd never be best friends but no longer was there open hostility between them.

In anticipation of the tourist season, more and more shops had opened, and the entire island seemed to embrace the longer days and the clear signs of spring.

Now, Jaime had his booted feet on his desk, distractedly wondering where Buttercup was when Pod hurried to answer the phone. Sipping his coffee, Jaime was idly scrolling through the police docket in King's Landing, when the urgency in Pod's voice drew Jaime's attention.

He knew immediately that something was wrong.

"What is it?"

Pod was pale and had to swallow a few times before the words came out.

"That was Val Snow. Lyanna is missing."

Adrenaline pumped through Jaime. In eighteen weeks here, he'd barely done anything more than usher a few warnings when Sandor and Tormund tied one on a couple of times and gave a few caveats for some off-roading that had angered some local farmers. Nothing he would consider 'real' police work.

But this – well, Jaime had run more than one search for a missing child.

He sprang into action, his voice calm, direct and entirely in control.

Within thirty minutes, Brienne was at the station, a local phone tree had been enacted, and volunteers were gathering at Val and Jon's farm to start the search.

And leading the way was Jaime.

The islanders naturally deferred to his experience and leadership, and within forty-five minutes from the time the call came in, Jaime was leading the search out from Val and Jon's house.

Jaime had broken people into teams of two.

Sandor and Jeyne.

Gendry and Dacey.

Brienne and Tormund.

Pod and Bronn.

Edd Tollett with Mance.

And countless others as people had shown up in droves, leaving Jaime with Jon. The man was barely holding it together, and Jaime couldn't blame him. His daughter had disappeared. Despite their rocky start, Jaime put his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"You might think I'm a shitty human, and maybe you have a point when it came to my choices in love. But this? I'm good at this, Jon. Trust me. We'll find your daughter."

Jon held his gaze, his dark eyes more worried than anything Jaime had ever seen.

"She's my …. She's our entire world."

They had figured out that Lyanna must have woken up early, put on her boots and wandered away from the farm when Jon and Val were still in bed.

"It was a rough night, with Ella. She was cranky, and we were just …" Jon's voice broke …

"Exhausted as parents of a baby are. Not your fault."

Jaime's tone was no-nonsense. This wasn't their fault. The sooner he could get Jon's head into the search, the better.

"We latch the door – always," Jon's ragged voice whispered.

Jaime nodded.

"Then let's go find her."

That seemed to galvanize Jon, and soon they were headed towards the ocean, in the pie-shaped wedge that was theirs to search.

"Why would she leave?" Jon asked after they'd walked for ten minutes.

Frowning, Jaime looked down. There were tracks here. And footprints. Small ones that looked like they belonged to a three and a half-year-old. And Jaime knew who they belonged to. For the first time since they'd gotten the call, Jaime grinned.

"She's with Buttercup," Jaime said, as Jon looked bewildered.

"What?"

"Buttercup. That's why she went out. Look."

In the soft grass, with the morning dew, the little tracks led to a small wood and Jaime, and Jon hurriedly followed them, until they got the edge and saw a bit of fabric caught on a bush.

Jon grabbed it and nodded.

"Her nightgown."

Both men started calling, pushing deeper into the little wood.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before they heard bleating and rushing forward, they saw Lyanna curled up around Buttercup, sleeping at the base of a tree.

Jon raced forward, dropping to his knees to scoop her up. Jaime observed them for a moment, thinking as horrible as this day had been, the happy ending made it worthwhile. Jon's eyes, now wet as he rocked his daughter, locked with Jaime's.

"Thank you."

Jaime gave the nod, then stepped back to make the call and end the search. Together, Jaime, Buttercup, Jon and Lyanna walked out of the woods, the little girl insisting on holding both their hands. She was happily chattering as if she hadn't taken several years off Jon's life and gazing at Jaime like he was a hero.

The reunion at the farm was even more heartfelt, as Jaime was lauded as a hero, and Val rushed out of the house to scoop Lyanna up in her arms.

Jaime found himself hugged, slapped and swung around. Plans were made to meet at the pub later, and Jaime even caught Sandor scolding Lyanna and Buttercup.

"But Uncle Sandy, she wanted to show me the fairies in the woods," Lyanna said by way of explanation.

Jaime swore he saw Sandor wipe away a tear.

"You never wander of Lya," he told her. "Never without telling an adult."

"Ok, Sandy," she singsonged happily as if she hadn't just put all the people who loved her under a tremendous amount of worry and stress. Val insisted Jaime come in for breakfast, and for once, there was a warm, welcoming smile on Jon's face. Before they entered the house, Jon stopped Jaime with a hand on his chest.

"What you did… I can never thank you enough," Jon said, looking towards the house, where Lyanna was happily asking to break the eggs.

"It's my job," Jaime said, sincerity in his words. He shrugged.

"I fucked up, loving the wrong woman, Jon. But I'm a good guy. Or at least I hope I am. All I ever wanted to do my entire life was help people."

Jon jerked his head.

"Fair enough. I'm lucky. I fell in love with a woman that's given me everything. They are my whole life. I'm willing to start over if you are. Sorry, I was a dick," Jon said, holding out his hand.

Touched, Jaime shook it, and then the two men embraced before Lyanna told them they were slowpokes. Grinning, Jon and Jaime walked into the farmhouse, bonded now, the start of something new between the two men, both relieved that a little girl was safe.

Then Jaime stumbled as he heard Lyanna's sweet little voice call out.

"Uncle Jaime, come help make the pancakes."

Laughing at Jaime's stunned expression, all the tension from Jon's shoulder dissipated. His daughter had deemed Jaime family, and that was good enough for him.

* * *

_ May – Jaime and the fireworks  _

"That man ought to be locked up during the last few months of school," Brienne muttered under her breath.

Jaime wisely said nothing as he sipped his coffee.

Instead of waiting for June, as was his custom, it seemed that Tormund Giantsbane, science teacher extraordinaire, had begun his fireworks campaign early this year, much to Brienne's ire.

Jaime had watched over the past four months how Tormund did everything in his power to break through Brienne's prickly shell. So far, nothing had worked, and Jaime and the teacher had spent more than one night at the pub, commiserating over their love lives.

Tormund was a widower, a man that had just turned thirty-eight, and he was ready for love again. He and his wife had been estranged when she'd died, and while sad, Jaime didn't get the impression that there had been a lot of love between them at the end of their marriage.

"When the big woman arrived, I thought the gods had sent my angel in the flesh," he'd told Jaime one night, deep into his cups.

"Perhaps don't call her the big woman," Jaime offered.

Bronn snorted and arched an eyebrow.

"Why not? She's huge," Tormund cried as if this were a good thing.

Jaime knew the man meant it as a compliment, but being referred to as 'the big woman' and 'huge' did not seem to be winning Tormund any favours when it came to Brienne.

Both Jaime and Bronn tried to explain it to him.

"Women like compliments," Bronn had said, giving Tormund a knowing smile.

"Do you compliment kissed by fire?" Tormund asked Bronn.

The publican frowned.

"Fucking stubborn as ten mules, that one."

Bronn and Ygritte were the original on-again, off-again couple on the island. They had epic battles, then would make up in the most spectacular and public way, before inevitably one of them would piss the other off. The worst was when Bronn had done something to truly make her angry, and suddenly the orders for the pub couldn't be filled.

Since Jaime spent plenty of nights eating his supper at Bronn's pub, that was always tough.

Still, true to his promise to himself, Jaime had stayed far away from any romantic entanglements on the island, preferring to give advice, when asked, to his new friends. He'd mostly avoided the women of the island, waving at them occasionally and helping when needed. But by and large, Jaime had fostered his friendships with the males of Skene.

Now he watched in amusement as Brienne cursed that Tormund had started his annual firework campaign early. Upon learning that the wildling man had only been doing it since Brienne had arrived on the island, Jaime had a sneaky suspicion of why it went on.

"Perhaps if you were to agree to go on a date with him, he wouldn't feel the need to get your attention in such a dramatic way," Jaime said, a philosophical tone to his voice.

Brienne stilled, turned and pinned him with a glare.

"Excuse me?"

Jaime gave a casual shrug, secretly thinking he had it right. He wasn't quite sure what Brienne was scared of when it came to Tormund. The man was loud, yes, and brash and bold. But he adored his daughters, was beloved by his students and was madly in love with Brienne.

Jaime rose and stretched, realizing he'd been sitting for far too long and wandered to get another cup of coffee. Pod was studiously avoiding looking at either Jaime or Brienne, and muttered, "Risking your balls mate," as Jaime passed his desk.

Maybe he was, but Jaime also thought that Brienne might have a real shot at a good relationship with the man – if she could get out of her head. If Jaime had any indications that Tormund's intentions were ill, he'd never be pushing them together.

"I'm just saying that maybe give the man a chance."

Jaime leaned against a desk, eyeing Brienne.

She coloured.

"Are you suggesting I trade sexual favours to get him to stop engaging in illegal activity? He knows the fireworks scare the puffins, the otters and the other nesting birds. And they are dangerous. Young, impressionable boys think that it's ok, and mark my words, Jaime Lannister, come the summer solstice party, you'll spend your entire day and evening running around taking them out of their hands instead of drinking lemonade and eating potato salad."

Jaime grinned at the thought. The summer solstice was a massive deal on Skene, harkening back thousands of years to the neolithic age and the ancient people that had first inhabited the island. It was the official kick-off to summer, and the tourists flocked here to participate. Jaime had convinced Addam and his wife to come up for it and was looking forward to the entire week.

But first, he had to deal with Tormund and Brienne.

"Brienne, I'm not suggesting anything of the sort. I am saying, give the man a shot."

With that, Jaime winked at Pod and told Brienne they'd go and do a sweep of the northern beaches, to see if that's where Tormund planned his next attack. After the first few incidents, Jaime had determined there was no way the man could do it all without some pre-planning.

"Bold move with Brienne," Pod said as they cruised North together.

Jaime shrugged.

"She needs a push."

Pod was silent for a time, then said, "They mocked her in the south. Called her Brienne the Beauty, but not in a nice way. She's umm, well, she's never even been on a date."

That shocked Jaime. Brienne wasn't the type of woman he found attractive, preferring someone much more feminine, but Brienne was by no means ugly.

"But Tormund likes her," Jaime said, confusion ringing his voice.

Pod sighed. "Yeah, but does she believe that? He's not exactly the most romantic guy."

"You think she wants romance?"

"I think she wants to know that he's not going to make fun of her – that it's not a joke."

Jaime gave Pod an assessing look. The young man was more astute than he seemed, and Jaime appreciated the insight into Brienne.

When they found Tormund on the third beach they checked, merrily humming as he set up his display, Jaime knew an intervention was needed.

"You're just going to make her angry," Jaime said, standing on a dune, watching Tormund startle.

He heard the man curse under his breath and shot a look to Pod, who appeared somewhat confused.

"I don't know what you are talking about, lion," Tormund grumbled.

"Have you tried asking her out. Like on a date. With words," Jaime said as Tormund appeared confused. It was as if the concept had never occurred to Tormund.

Taking pity on his friend, Jaime hurried over to where Tormund was standing, surrounded by some very fancy looking fireworks. By law, Jaime should confiscate them, and then give Tormund a hefty fine. But, he sensed an opportunity here.

Patting his friend on the back, Jaime grinned and leaned down to tell Tormund his plan, all while Pod stood there, grinning like a fool, his hero-worship of Jaime Lannister growing by the day.

When they arrived back at the station, Jaime was practically assaulted by Brienne.

"Did you find him?"

"We did."

"And? Where is he? Did you arrest him?"

"Whoa, back up, Brienne," Jaime said, grabbing a bottle of water. He knew he had to get this next part perfect. Jaime wondered what it cost her to bite her tongue, but she did, waiting for him to speak.

"We found the fireworks, but no Tormund. I think to put a stop to this truly, and we need to catch him in the act – when he's lighting them off."

Her blue eyes blazed in righteousness, and Jaime felt a twinge of guilt about what he was setting up for her. But in the long run, he hoped she'd thank him for his interference.

"You're right, Chief. That's what we need to do. Then we can get him to cut this nonsense out, once and for all."

It was almost too easy, Jaime thought later, as Brienne loaded up one of the ATVs. He'd promised he'd follow her but didn't want to scare Tormund away if they both went roaring out to the beach, and her rapid agreement had the guilt gnawing at him. As she drove away, Jaime turned to Pod.

"Am I total bastard or Skene's version of Eros?" he asked Pod. When his friend appeared confused, Jaime grinned. "Cupid."

Shrugging Pod debated.

"She'll either love you, or you'll be searching for your balls when she kicks them into your mouth," Pod said and then turned to go back into the station, leaving Jaime to follow Brienne.

Gods, he hoped this worked as he puttered along in his vehicle, waving at the locals, seeing the flocks of tourists in the shops and restaurants that opened during the busy season. Skene was a very different place from May to September, Jaime was discovering. Surprisingly, he missed it when it was just the locals, shocking himself by including himself in that description.

When he reached the beach, he parked a fair way back, by Brienne's side by side, and quietly walked up the little hill. On this very deserted beach, Tormund had set up one of the most romantic dates Jaime had ever seen.

There was a table with two chairs, a blanket nearby, flowers, candles and food. And Brienne, thank the gods, who appeared to be slightly stunned, but deeply touched, was sitting on a chair, smiling at the red-haired man. Both of them turned, almost at once, to see Jaime, and thankfully, Brienne gave him a little wave.

Jaime gave her a thumbs-up, indicating he'd take care of any calls that came in tonight.

Then, with only a slight ache in his heart for what he did not have, but happy for his friends, Jaime turned and went back to town.

That night, the entire island was treated to the most spectacular firework show of the season, and not a single angry phone call was made to the police station.

The next morning, Brienne, Tormund and his three daughters all came piling into Marya's café. Jaime was grinning, until Tormund picked him up, spinning him around.

"Lion! You are a miracle worker," the man said, laughing like a loon. Jaime wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone as happy as Tormund.

Brienne, who was helping Tormund's daughters pick out a treat, gently extracted herself from the girls and walked up to Jaime. She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"That was dirty, Jaime."

He ran a hand through his hair, which was getting quite long and needed a trim.

"Yeah, it was."

"Thank you," Brienne said, her voice catching. "You're a good friend, Jaime."

"So you two are …." He asked.

"Taking things slowly and seeing if we fit."

It was a good approach, and Jaime was happy for them. When he exited the café, they were sitting together, perhaps a bit awkwardly, but Jaime saw the eagerness in Tormund's daughter's eyes that Brienne was there with him.

Jaime almost bumped into Buttercup, who was waiting for him, and grinning down at her, broke off a piece of his cinnamon bun as they walked together towards the station.

Good deed done, Jaime whistled as he walked through the streets of Skene. He knew he was a welcome addition to the island and finally felt like he was finding his place here, at the edge of Westeros, with people he was rapidly coming to love.

* * *

_ June – Jaime’s friend arrives for a visit _

Jaime almost bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited at the harbour for the ferry coming from the mainland. In two days, summer solstice would be here, and true to his word, Addam and his wife and their three-year-old were coming. Emma was a few years younger than Jaime and Addam, at forty. She was five months pregnant, but Addam explained she was excited to see Skene, and it had been a lifelong dream so this was working out perfectly.

Jaime had them set up in a cottage, near Val and Jon's place, figuring the kids could play together, and that they’d get a kick out of seeing a working goat farm.

When the ferry docked, Addam and Jaime embraced warmly, and the man from King's Landing stood back to study his friend. Gone were the deep stress lines in Jaime's face, the worry that had haunted his eyes. He seemed healthier and happier.

Jaime was smiling, and he picked Matty up and swung him around easily, making his godson giggle.

As they made their way to the side by side, Addam couldn't help but notice just how at ease Jaime was, smiling and waving to people, hearing people call out his name. It was clear his friend was beloved on the island, and Emma was instantly charmed by the tiny village.

It was hard for Addam to reconcile the Jaime he'd known his entire life, the one that had been driven to become a detective, the one who'd gone against the Great Lion's wishes to achieve his dream, with this man he was now seeing.

There was pride in Jaime's voice as he introduced them around the island, taking them to the little police station, where they met Brienne and Pod. Addam was shocked when a little lamb, bleating happily, came running down the street to butt up against Jaime.

His friend just laughed and introduced them to Buttercup.

Matty was in love with her, digging his chubby fingers into her soft wool, and Jaime just stared indulgently.

"She won't hurt him. She loves kids," was all the explanation Addam got. He never thought he’d see the day when Jaime was comfortable with farm animals.

There was a further shock when they entered the pub, where Bronn greeted them warmly.

"You're not getting this cunt back," Bronn told Addam, jabbing a finger at him. "He's ours now."

Jaime just blushed and waved a hand and then found them seats, chatting easily with locals and other tourists who'd come in for lunch.

Addam had no idea what to say. He'd expected to find his friend broken and depressed.

Instead, Jaime seemed to be thriving.

"So, tell us about Skene," Addam pressed when they were seated.

Shockingly, Jaime went on for fifteen minutes about the island, until their food arrived.

“But you are coming back, right?” Addam asked.

"Of course, I'm not staying. Once my two years is up, I'll be back if they'll have me."

Addam hummed non committedly. From what he'd heard, the brass was regretting their decision to banish Jaime. More information had come out about Cersei and Robert and their fucked up marriage, and Jaime's talents were sorely missed in King's Landing. He'd been a damn good detective and wasn't easily replaced.

Still, Addam said nothing, determined to take the next few days to see if Jaime was really happy up here.

Throughout lunch, there was a steady stream of people that stopped by their table, and it was more than apparent the integral role Jaime had carved for himself.

There was a teacher, named Jeyne, who confirmed that Jaime was still going to teach a few days of basic criminology to some of their older students at the school. Jeyne was twenty-eight and the woman a man named Sandor had a crush on. 

Jaime promised he’d do his time at the high school. 

There was Gendry, the local vet, who asked if Jaime still wanted to learn how to shoe a horse, in anticipation of the upcoming crowd of tourists that liked to visit the island on horseback. 

He did.

There was a farmer, a huge man with an awful scar, named Sandor, that told Jaime to be at his place this weekend to help sheer the sheep. Sandor was the one with the crush on Jeyne, near as Addam could tell. 

"Not Buttercup!" Jaime protested, and the man grunted.

"She's getting a cut, but not like the others."

Jaime relaxed. Sandor stomped off, and Addam was fascinated by this side of Jaime.

Finally, an older man, slightly grizzled, asked if they were still on for the whale watching tour in the morning. Both Emma and Matty clapped excitedly, and Jaime grinned.

"Even I haven't been out. We'll be there, Davos."

"A pod of orcas was spotted in the straight, off the west coast. It should be a good day. See you at 7 am sharp."

Emma was beaming at his friend and leaned into her husband.

"This is the best vacation so far. And did you see the shops? I'll need to spend some time there."

Addam shook his head, more than willing to indulge his wife on their vacation. The rest of the day passed pleasantly, with Jaime taking them through the village and then finally towards the little cottage where they were staying. Emma was over the moon pleased with it, calling it authentic and charming, and Addam paid attention when Jaime showed him how to light the peat.

"You won't need it since it's summer. But it lends to the authenticity of the place."

There was a knock on the door, and Val's pretty face came into view as she welcomed Emma and Addam to the island.

"Where's Ella?" Jaime asked.

"With Jon, doing her first tour," Val said proudly. "Bossy pants Lyanna has commandeered your son, I'm afraid."

Emma didn't mind at all, as they could hear the voices of the children. A soft bleat alerted Jaime to the fact that Buttercup was keeping an eye on them. Ever since her little escapade a few months ago, Lyanna had been much better keeping close.

Val stayed, having baked a fresh lemon loaf and was excitedly explaining the summer solstice festival, when Jon arrived to collect his family.

Their relationship, now dramatically improved, meant that Jaime was greeted like an old friend, and Addam welcomed to this island. Val and Jon ended up staying for dinner, and oddly enough, Jaime didn't feel like the fifth wheel as he feared.

He longed for what his friends had – wives that loved them, adorable children and steady marriages. But he wasn't that bitter that he'd wish them anything but happiness. Just that one day, he might have what they did.

A bit tipsy, Addam hugged Jaime hard when he went to leave.

"Fuck, Jai, I've never seen you this happy," Addam said as they both gazed up at the endless stars. Jaime was hoping that he might see Northern lights this winter.

"I like it here. It's peaceful. They're good people."

Nothing more was said. Addam knew that Jaime took his obligations seriously. He'd signed on for two years, and he'd stay on Skene for two – even if he'd been miserable, which he wasn't. Now was not the time to tell him what Addam had overheard the captain say.

But he did add, "We miss you. On the force, Jaime. What happened to you, it wasn't right."

Jaime just gave a little shake of his head.

"Perhaps. But it was my bad choices, Addam, and no one else's."

Jaime didn't ask about Cersei, didn't really care about her, and Addam didn't say a word. As far as Addam was concerned, that woman could burn in hell for what she'd done to his friend.

The next morning, the Marbrand's met Jaime down at the harbour and boarded Davos Seaworth's boat. Concern about the whales limited the sight-seeing to one boat per day, and without Jaime's connections, Addam, Emma and Matty never would have had this chance.

They took their time getting out of the harbour, getting a good look at the village and then went up the coastline. There was more to see than just whales, including the seals that the whales came to feast upon. The seals and their antics made the passengers laugh, and Davos took them around a few rocky outcroppings where their barks could be heard.

When they left there, Jaime was sipping on coffee, watching Addam with his wife and son. Matty was up on Addam's shoulders, and somehow, he was the first to spot the orcas.

Jaime had heard of the whales, of course, for they were cherished and beloved as much as the puffins on the island. But hearing about them and seeing them in the flesh was to entirely different things. It was a large pod, with a mature matriarch and her many offspring making up the family group.

They were fast – faster than Jaime thought any whales had a right to be, and he listened intently as Davos recited what they knew.

"The Orca, part of the dolphin family, is the apex predator in the sea. There isn't anything alive that will challenge them when they are in their pods hunting."

"Even a shark?" someone asked.

Davos chuckled. "Even sharks. They are fearsome killers, hunting in packs, and earn their nickname, _Killer Whale_. There has never been a documented case of a killer whale killing a human in nature. They prefer the blubbery fat of the seals but have been known to chase down Humpback whale calves. They will eat almost anything, and migrate to areas where salmon runs are strong each year."

One jumped, and then another, and Jaime risked a glance at Davos. Even he seemed impressed by their display.

"They're putting on a show for you. They're naturally curious," Davos said.

The boat was well away from the whales, giving the pod the space it needed.

"There have been instances when people have been paddleboarding or kayaking, and the whales have come up to play."

"How can you tell them apart?"

"Each on has unique markings, mostly on the saddle by their dorsal fin," Davos explained. "It's how the scientists that study them know which ones come back. We also keep count of the calves each year, and which ones survive the winter."

The whales jumped and played some more and then, as if they'd never been there, disappeared.

Davos turned the boat north, towards the breeding grounds of the puffins. Excited cheers could be heard as the birds came into view, the entire side of one cliff littered with them. Jaime knew everything about the puffins and tuned Davos out instead of watching the people on the boat.

Lots of families, a few older couples, and some young people. A good mix for the island and no one that he had any concerns about.

Jaime left Addam with his family when they got back to the village, begging off on the shopping and saying he'd meet them at the pub later for dinner. He loved his best friend, but being around Addam reminded Jaime of everything he didn't have, and he needed some time and space.

Thankfully, there was a call about some vandalism at the old lighthouse, so he took Pod, and they spent the afternoon trying to figure out if the vandals were just really stupid or had run out of time since they'd spray-painted _loooser old freek_ in bright red on the side of the white lighthouse.

Mance was in an uproar, as it had happened on one of his rare trips to visit Val and his granddaughters, and Jaime and Pod promised a crew to come and paint it in the next few days. Even as a recluse, Mance was one of theirs.

That night, Addam and Emma were cordially welcomed back into the pub, enveloped by Jaime's new friends on Skene. It warmed his heart to see both his lives so smoothly blended, and he grinned as Pod grilled Addam about working in King's Landing. When Jon sunk into a seat beside Jaime, the younger man shook his head.

"You can tell a lot about a person by their friends. Addam's a good guy."

Jaime nodded and sipped his pint. Jon would get no argument from him.

"How did you end up with her?" Jon asked, voice quiet.

Jaime looked at him, wondering if it was just curiosity, or if Jon truly wanted to know.

Seeing nothing but openness there, Jaime gave a rueful grin.

"I rescued her one night, from a few thugs," thinking back to that time, so long ago. "I was captivated by her. We dated for a while, but when I refused to be what she wanted, refused to climb the social ladder that she was so desperate for, we broke up."

Jon said nothing, to which Jaime was grateful.

"Five years later, I saw her at a charity event. Robert had been cheating on her for years. That was normal for those marriages – the ones where people married for money or to improve one’s position. It was how I was raised."

Jaime gave Jon a look. Jon looked like he almost felt sorry for Jaime.

"I'm not condoning our affair or making excuses. There are none for what I did with Cersei. But her husband was a dog. The man slept with more women than anyone could count. When we ran into each other again, she was … gods, she took my breath away. Then she indicated Robert got physical with her."

Jaime got a faraway look in his eye, and Jon’s empathy for Jaime increased. He couldn’t imagine loving a woman that was just so bad for you. Val was everything.

"I should have walked away. She already had two children with him and was planning number three. But I was a fool, and in love. I thought I could save her. I thought we were destined to be together, but the fates were keeping us apart."

Jon laid a hand on Jaime's shoulder and squeezed. He felt awful for the assumptions he’d made.

"I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I loved her, Jon. I thought we weren't hurting anyone. Her marriage was sham, and she’d made it so she couldn’t have any more children. Even knowing what I was giving up to be with her, I thought it was worth it."

"And then you caught her with another man."

A bitter laugh escaped Jaime's lips, and he took another big gulp of beer.

"She threatened to ruin me. Guess in the end, she won."

Jon cocked his head.

"You saved my daughter, Jaime. You brought Tormund and Brienne together. You’re helping Mance out. Pod hero worships you. The people here, they like you – they've accepted you. Is this really what you’d call ruined?"

With those wise words, Jon rose, dragged off to dance with his pretty wife as Jaime sat back and thought of what Jon said. Maybe Skene hadn't quite turned out to be the punishment Jaime had thought it would be. He liked it here – loved the people, liked the slower pace. He'd made friends, found a place for himself.

Still, was this enough to give up what he'd worked so hard for? He'd busted his balls to make detective, and he knew there were evil people out there that needed to be caught. Wasn't that his duty? To serve and protect those he’d dedicated himself to?

Lost in his musings, Jaime sat back, smiled, and watched as those he'd come to cherish, danced, twirled and drank the night away, convinced that he'd always remain on the outside, true happiness just not in the cards for him.

Jaime watched in wonder, two days later, as Chief of Police on the island of Skene, as the festivities of summer solstice unfolded in the village.

There were flower crowns that all the women, no matter their age, seemed to wear, along with long, flowing skirts, blousy tops and sandals.

There were vendors of food, with delicious offerings at every station.

A makeshift stage had been set up, with music flowing all day.

There were giant bonfires and dancing, merriment and fun.

Children ran amuck, safe on the island and through the legs of their parents, as the elders sat in a place of honour, to talk about the old ways.

Addam joined him on his foot patrol, as Emma was entirely accepted by the women of Skene, and Matty was glued to Lyanna's side. The Marbrands had slid easily into the life on Skene.

"Just like old times in Flea Bottom," Addam said, grinning at his friend. His wife loved Skene, and Addam half expected her to demand he find a way to move them here. Addam wasn’t sure he’d object. He could see the appeal of the island.

"Except for the stench of piss and shit," Jaime agreed readily enough.

Having survived half a winter here, he didn't blame these people in the least for celebrating the longest day of the year with such a huge festival. They put up with the darkness, let them celebrate the light.

"Skene looks good on you," Addam said, after a time.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They walked in companionable silence for a time.

"I was worried about you when all that shit when down with your ex. Worried that you'd never find happiness. But this place, I dunno Jai, it just suits you."

Neither one spoke of what might happen when the two years on Skene was up. For now, it was enough, that Addam knew Jaime was happy and well-liked, and that the island welcomed him.

A week later, Jaime stood on the pier and waved goodbye to his friend, grateful to have both Pod and Buttercup by his side. It had been good to see Addam, see how happy he was. But it was also a stark reminder of what Jaime did not, and most likely would never have.

Instead of dwelling on might have been, Jaime pasted a smile on his face and turned to Pod.

"Is the crew ready to go and paint the lighthouse?"

Pod confirmed they were, and Jaime turned his back on the ferry and threw himself into life on Skene.

* * *

_ August – Jaime needs stitches  _

It was a calamity of errors that led Pod to drag Jaime to Dr. Wynafryd Manderley's small island clinic for stitches the second weekend in August.

Jaime had been helping Podrick paint the side of the house where they lived when Pod had slipped on the ladder, and Jaime had broken his fall – with his face.

Gushing blood from the head wound had led a panicked Pod to rush Jaime to Wyn's clinic.

By and large, seven months into his time on Skene, Jaime had kept mostly to the men. Sure he'd said hello to Wyn on occasion, but especially knowing that Podrick liked her, Jaime had kept his interactions with the pretty doctor to a minimum. Now sitting, holding a thick piece of gauze to his forehead, he quietly observed the two.

At first, it might seem like Pod was aiming far above his level, given that Wyn exuded a quiet confidence that only came from being one of the best in your chosen field along with her beauty. Jaime had taken a look at her credentials and had discovered she'd chosen to come and practice medicine here on Skene.

More than anything, Jaime wanted to know why.

Wyn's nurse, Gilly, who stammered and blushed a lot, got Jaime cleaned up and prepped. She was a nice enough woman, who was twenty-five. When Gilly had done her thing, she escorted Pod from the room, leaving Jaime alone with Wynafryd Manderly.

She gave him a look as she prepped the needle to freeze the area.

"Just a few stitches," she said, "Then you'll be on your way Chief."

Jaime grunted. He'd been shot, once – a flesh wound mostly. He wasn't ordinarily squeamish, but he didn't like needles.

"Fucking Pod," Jaime muttered and earned a dark look from Dr. Wyn.

 _Hmmmmm, now wasn't that interesting_ , Jaime thought as she jabbed him with the needle. It appeared Dr. Wyn was protective of one Podrick Payne.

"I'm not upset at him," Jaime told her as she got her needle and thread.

"Podrick Payne is a good man, Chief."

Though she didn't say it, her implication was clear – a better man than Jaime. Since Jaime wasn't one to argue with logic, he said nothing, wincing a bit as she began to stitch his head.

"He is a good man, and if I'm not mistaken, one who thinks the world of you," Jaime said quietly.

She blushed, which was always a good sign. She bit her lip and appeared to be debating with herself whether to ask whatever it was that was on her mind.

"If he thinks so highly of me, then why has he not asked me out?" she finally blurted out.

Jaime gave a soft chuckle.

"I think he's a bit intimidated by you. In fairness, so am I. You graduated almost top of your class, and if what I've heard is true, had offers from every major city in Westeros. Yet here you are."

Wyn frowned.

"Is this an interrogation? I've heard you were quite good at your job yourself, Chief Lannister."

Her barb was pointed and demonstrated just how intelligent she was. Jaime's respect for her grew.

Impressed by her fire, Jaime shook his head.

"Not it's not an interrogation. Curiosity perhaps. When I arrived on the island, I wondered if people were stuck here like I was."

"And what have you discovered?"

Jaime thought about that.

"For most, it seems to be a choice. They were either born here and have stayed or came and fell in love with it. Which are you, Dr. Manderly?"

She said nothing as she puttered about, putting her equipment away. She reached the door and then paused, turning to look at Jaime.

"If you can get Podrick to ask me out on a date, a proper date, then I'll give you one of my secrets, Chief. I heard what you did for Tormund and Brienne. Until then, my reasons for being here stay with me.”

Then she was gone, slipped out of the room as Podrick hurried back in.

Mulling it over, Jaime signed the paperwork and headed back to the house he shared with Pod, thinking of Wyn and wondering if he could make some magic happen between the two of them.

* * *

_ October – Jaime sets Pod up on a date _

It took until October, until the Samhain festival to be exact for Jaime to help Pod work up the courage to ask Wyn out. Much like the summer solstice, the ancient tradition of marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, or the darker half of the year, was a big deal on Skene.

The tourists were long gone, and this was a celebration for those that lived on the island, going from October 31 to November 1. Unlike Halloween done in the south, or All Saints' Day practiced in Dorne, here the evening was a mixture of all three. It was clear that those on the island of Skene believed that the boundary between this world and the otherworld could be easily crossed and welcomed this celebration.

There were bonfires to gather around, costumes to make, and offerings to those that were no longer with the living.

Jaime was thoroughly enchanted by the entire event that culminated with a huge outdoor dance around a roaring bonfire.

For two months, Jaime had worked with Pod for the young man to find his courage and ask Wyn out. The man had made every excuse in the book, until finally, Jaime threatened to ask her to the dance himself.

Pod had not liked that idea at all and had shot Jaime daggers as he'd marched out of the station and towards her clinic. Brienne, who was still 'taking things slow' with Tormund, but now at least admitted they were a couple, gave Jaime a funny look.

"You were never going to ask her out, were you?"

Jaime shook his head and sipped his coffee. "No."

Brienne settled into her seat and got a contemplative look on her face.

"You know, I wasn't sure about you. I knew you were being punished, coming up here to Skene. I researched you. Your arrest record was amazing, your commendations impressive. There wasn't a single complaint against you in your long and storied career. That's impressive."

Jaime said nothing wondering where this might be going.

"When the story broke, about you and that Cersei woman, it hurt. Because you were such a good cop, Jaime, it felt like a betrayal to us all. But then, you claimed you were innocent and stuck by your story, and it all came out – how she used you, set you up."

Jaime had always known that Brienne saw things in very black and white terms, so he'd never broached this subject with her before, afraid of what she might say.

"I won't say I understand what possesses a man to sleep with a married woman, but I've come to know you, Jaime. You're a good guy – one of the best people I've ever known. In ten months, you've willingly become part of our community. You care for these people, and you're nothing like what I was expecting. Perhaps Wyn isn't right for you, but don't punish yourself forever."

With that bit of unexpected advice, Brienne stood and said she was going to gather Tormund's daughters.

She squeezed Jaime's shoulder lightly.

“I'll see you at the bonfire."

He grunted something unintelligible and then sat in the rapidly darkening station, thinking on Brienne's words.

There wasn't a woman on Skene right now that captured his interest in such a way. But maybe she was right. Maybe Jaime was punishing himself, closing himself off to the possibility of ever being in love again. He'd been so burned, so hurt by Cersei's betrayal, that he was sure he'd never want to risk that again. But being here? Seeing couples that were in love, that tried for one another? It had him reevaluating his stance.

He was lost in his head when the door banged open, and Pod came rushing in. Before he knew it, Jaime was wrapped up in a hug, and Pod was chattering about how he had a date with Wyn to the dance tonight.

"Thanks, Jaime, for pushing me," Pod said, and Jaime couldn't help but grin back.

Perhaps his lot in life was to play matchmaker and see his friends happy. And if it was, well then, so be it. It wasn't a bad gig, and so far, he was two for two.

* * *

_ January – Jaime meets Sansa _

As they liked to call it on Skene, Christmas or Yule had come and gone, with Jaime opting to take a quick flight home to Lannisport to be with his father and brother. It was the first time he'd been off the island in nearly a year, and the south felt different.

It was crowded and warm, and it felt soulless compared to where Jaime had come from.

Lyanna had clung to him, worried he was leaving for good when he'd gone by Jon and Val's to give them their presents. He'd promised he was coming back and found himself oddly reluctant to leave. Like all holidays, the people of Skene threw themselves into winter solstice and Christmas, and the village had been decorated to the nines when he'd left.

His father had wanted to know if he'd heard anything about being reinstated in King's Landing, and while both Addam and Arthur had hinted he could get his job back if he wanted, Jaime had committed to the tiny island for two years.

"No. I said I'd give them two years, and that's what I'll do."

"It's the end of the world, Jaime," Tywin had said, shaking his head.

"It's an amazing place," Jaime countered, watching his father's face crinkle in befuddlement.

"Skene? You can't be serious."

Jaime chuckled softly. "Dad, it's pretty great."

Tywin said nothing, but Jaime could see he wasn't convinced.

Christmas at the Rock was a subdued affair, with just the three lions there. It saddened Jaime that his father didn't have grandchildren, and he felt it was a severe failure on his behalf. Never had he wished had been different than right now. Why couldn’t he have met someone normal, fallen in love, had a family? Why had it been Cersei?

When he made his way home, because, for all practical purposes, Skene was home, Jaime wondered what the next year might bring. No longer did he feel the pull to King's Landing. In fact, he'd received Pod's excited text to join them at the pub for New Year's Eve, and it felt great to be included with his friends. A year ago he’d been an outsider – now he was one of them.

He was welcomed home like this was truly his place, and he willingly took his seat in Bronn's pub, sandwiched between Tormund and Jon.

He didn't mind when someone placed a _HAPPY 2020_ novelty hat on his head, and willingly stood outside in the cold to begin the countdown to the New Year with a fireworks display by Brienne and Tormund. Now that they were a couple, Brienne had relaxed her stance on them.

When the clock struck midnight, Jaime closed his eyes for a moment and wished that maybe the universe might reward him with something good this year. Then he shuffled himself home, as he'd promised his colleagues he'd operate the station on New Year's Day.

Sitting at his desk, nursing a slight hangover, Jaime read the message from Maege Mormont. She'd found a renter for her cottage, and someone to take over the museum/library for the next year. A woman named Sansa Stark, who was working on her Ph.D. in anthropology. He tipped out the envelope and saw Maege had left the keys for the cottage and asked him if he could meet her when she arrived today and get her settled.

Glancing at his watch, Jaime realized he had just enough time to grab some basic groceries for her and meet her when the ferry docked.

Rushing to get it all done, he made it back to the harbour in time to meet the ferry.

Jaime hopped out of the side by side, warming his hands as he waited for it to dock. He made a little sign for her, hoping she'd trust him. He had his badge and the Skene police windbreaker on, making him look as official as possible.

He glanced up and saw the ferry, drawn to a slim woman standing at the bow, her bright red hair not fully covered by a toque. That must be her, as there were very few people that would be on the ferry today and she was the only one he didn’t instantly recognize. Even from a distance, Jaime was drawn to her.

When it docked, Jaime made sure he was the first person that she saw as she disembarked.

He saw a soft smile on her face and was stunned by her beauty, feeling something stir inside. He held up his sign, saw when she saw it, and then felt his world tilt when their eyes met. She stopped right in front of him and held out her hand.

"Hi, you must be Jaime. I'm Sansa."

Jaime smiled, feeling something warm inside him. He took her hand in his, oddly not wanting to let it go.

"I am. Jaime that is." He gave her a self-deprecating grin. "Welcome to Skene, Sansa Stark. I hope that you fall in love with our little island."

Pleased to see her eyes light, Jaime offered to take her luggage and then proceeded to escort her to the side by side, where he would show her the island that was now his home, and hers. For some reason, that Jaime couldn't name, it suddenly felt as if his entire world was about to change.

* * *


	5. Sansa’s First Days on Skene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's first few weeks on Skene

* * *

_ January: First Days on Skene – Sansa _

She might be a grieving mother, but Sansa Stark was not blind. The man, the police chief that greeted her at the ferry with his little homemade cardboard sign, was very handsome. The slight grin, the dishevelled blond hair, the dancing green eyes – he made a very welcoming package.

For the first time since Ben got sick since her marriage to Harry has started to crumble since all of the bad things had happened to her, Sansa realized that the man standing before her knew none of it.

There was no pity in his eyes, no worry that he might say the wrong thing to upset her, no wariness that she might be in one of her' moods.'

She was a total mystery to him - a blank slate.

It was freeing, if somewhat scary, to think that all the safety nets she'd constructed for herself these past few years were now gone. To this man she was shaking hands with, she was simply Sansa Stark.

Not a divorcee.

Not a woman that had buried her child before the age of thirty.

Not a daughter and a sister that was slowly driving her family away with her grief.

She was none of those things.

She took his offered hand and smiled at him. He was vaguely familiar, and she tried to place him. The name Lannister meant something, especially to men like Harry Hardyng and Petyr Baelish, who were in finance. Sansa nebulously recalled she might have met the Lannister family patriarch, Tywin, at some event when she'd been on Harry's arm when she'd done that sort of thing.

But she never recalled anyone named Jaime moving in those same circles.

Oddly enough, though he was smiling, she sensed a story in the man before her – as if he weren't quite as easy going and affable as he seemed. Somehow, after everything she went through, Sansa had garnered the ability to know when someone else was in pain, much like she was.

Still, she had her secrets, and she'd respect his.

Sansa was unsure how much she'd mingle with the locals.

She was here for a year, to do her research and run the little museum and library while working on her doctoral thesis. The deadline was tight, and she'd have to pour all her efforts into it if she wanted to succeed. She wasn't sure that meant becoming friendly with people here, beyond doing what she needed to accomplish her goals.

If that made her selfish or cold, she didn't much care. She preferred to think of it as survival, and it was a mode she operated these days continuously. Her selfishness at putting herself first was something her therapist had not only encouraged but actively got her to strive towards.

For so long, Sansa had been a caretaker, and she knew it went far beyond what she'd done for her son.

If she were honest, which Sansa had been during her therapy, she had often put Harry's wants and needs above her own. It had allowed her to conclude that even if their son had not become sick, she and Harry were decidedly unbalanced in their marriage.

When Sansa examined her marriage, all indicators had shown her that it was destined to fail – with or without Ben's illness. Ben's illness had simply exposed what was rotten in her marriage far sooner than if he'd been healthy.

"This way," Jaime said, ushering her up a little hill to a funny looking golf cart type vehicle, taking her out of her musings.

His grin was back.

"There aren't many proper vehicles on Skene," he said by way of explanation. "Maege left you your own little side by side so you can get around the island."

He helped her with her luggage and then opened the door for her. Sansa paused. It had been an age since someone had done something so gentlemanly for her. When her son had been sick, Sansa had gone into warrior mother mode, commanding everything about Ben's treatment and care, refusing help when she knew she could take care of things herself.

She gave Jaime a little nod and hopped inside.

"So where to first? Work or your new home?" he asked. It was barely noon, and Sansa had a few days before she was scheduled to open the museum, but she also wanted to settle in.

"What's closer?"

That grin again, on this man's handsome face. She couldn't help but return it. It was so freeing that he didn't know anything about her.

"Well, it's New Year's Day, and I'd imagine most of the residents are nursing heavy heads from the night before. I've stocked your cottage with some basics, but if we go there first, if you're missing anything, you can grab them when we return to town."

"And you have time for this? Isn't there something more important you should be doing?" For the first time, Sansa realized she was monopolizing the time of the Chief of police.

His warm laugher seemed to slide right past any defences she had.

"It's Skene. There are 821 people here – 823 if you count you and I. Trust me when I say, if they need me, they'll get ahold of me. Come on, Sansa Stark, let me show you the island."

Caught up in his joy, his sheer excitement, Sansa found herself nodding. This was why she was here, wasn't it? To grow, to heal, to experience something different. Skene seemed as far removed from the Eyrie as any place could be.

As they drove out of the village, Chief Jaime pointed out little shops and houses that she might need or want to visit when she'd settled. She found herself relaxing, enjoying the view, of Skene, of him, of this tiny picturesque place where she as anonymous.

The further they drove, the more Jaime frowned, and Sansa wondered if she'd done something to upset him. For the life of her she couldn't figure it out, but she knew she was the queen of resting bitch face these days.

"Jaime, is there a problem?" she asked.

She was direct to the point of being blunt now. It felt like she had no time or patience for the social niceties her mother had drilled into her head when she'd been growing up.

"No. I'm just …"

He sighed and stopped the little vehicle on the rise. Below was a valley with a farm, including a house and a little white cottage in the distance. Far off, almost on the horizon, Sansa could see the Shivering Sea.

"I'm going to sound like a chauvinistic jerk," he told her, giving her another one of those contrite smiles. She wondered if he had any idea just how effective they were?

Sansa found herself laughing, which was a rare sound these days.

"Go on then," she told him.

He shook his head and ducked it away from her. Sighed. Then spoke.

"I just worry that a city woman like you might not be comfortable out here. Skene is beautiful, but it's remote. And your closest neighbour is a bit of a recluse."

Sansa decided to let the "city woman" comment slide, as Jaime was conflicted. It was kind of cute, as she was pretty sure Maege's letter had indicated he had only recently taken the job as Chief of Police after her brother retired. He clearly took his role as protector seriously.

"What if I were to meet him – this man you call a recluse? Would that make you feel better?"

Jaime mumbled something she didn't catch, as she continued to stare at him.

"What was that?" Sansa had automatically slipped into her 'mom' voice.

Jaime rolled his eyes and said, "I suppose that will do. I know I sound like a jerk, but trust me, once you've lived through your first winter storm, we can chat about our shared experiences."

Taking that as an opportunity, Sansa gently probed. "So how long have you been here?"

"A year, so I'm barely considered a local."

When he didn't offer anything more, Sansa didn't ask. She wasn't in the business of digging into other people's lives.

They drove in silence, towards the large farmhouse, and something stirred in Sansa as she gazed at the cows and sheep in the fields. Ben had been at an age when everything had been about farm animals – even his favourite books. Her son would have loved it here, and she missed him with a desperation that stole her breath, making her eyes tear, and her heart hurt.

Jaime, much to his credit, said nothing, even as she wiped away the tears. She appreciated his candour when it came to her pain.

"I'll warn you now, that Sandor comes off as a bit gruff, but as far as I can tell, there isn't anything he wouldn't do for someone needing help."

Sansa nodded, trying to get herself under control.

"Oh, and I guess I should tell you about Buttercup," Jaime said suddenly, his face breaking out into a smile.

"Buttercup?" Sansa asked, arching an eyebrow. Somehow, she found herself back on even ground much quicker, and she had a sneaky suspicion because of Jaime Lannister and his incredible ability not to ask obvious questions.

"Yup. She's a lamb. Well, she was a lamb. She was born at the wrong time, so Sandor had to bottle-feed her and then she kind of just adopted the entire island of Skene as her playground."

Sansa said nothing, just staring at Jaime, watching as he blushed.

God, he really was one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen. She liked how calm he was, and put together. He seemed content here on Skene as if he'd found his place, and she envied him that peace.

"And she kind of has taken a liking to me."

At that moment, Sansa heard exciting bleating and then watched in wonder as a sheep came barreling towards their vehicle. Jaime stepped out and then leaned into her, rubbing at her ears as the sheep, Buttercup, Sansa assumed, pressed against Jaime.

Unbidden, the thought whispered through Sansa's brain – _lucky sheep_.

She stepped out of the car and swore that the animal glared at her as she approached. Before she had a chance even to introduce herself to Buttercup, another voice joined was heard.

"Lannister, what do you need?"

Sansa turned to see the largest man she'd ever met, walking towards her with an athleticism that indicated he was used to doing hard work all day long. She'd never seen a man so chiselled as he was, and even in his muddy boots, thick work pants and warm coat, she could tell he was huge.

And the poor man had a truly awful scar that took up half his face. Sansa didn't shudder – she'd lived in a hospital for two years with Ben and had seen much worse than this man's face, but she did ache for him a bit. Some people wore their scars on the outside of their bodies; others were internal.

"Sandor, I've come to introduce you to your new neighbour. She is staying in Maege's cottage for the next year."

Sandor grunted and wiped his hand and then held it out, almost as if in a challenge. Undaunted, Sansa shook it firmly. She could see the small smirk on his face.

"So, you're the mainlander come to pick our brains about the history of Skene," he growled.

"I am."

"Huh."

The three of them stood in awkward silence until Buttercup bleated.

"Well, yes, alright. Thanks for the warm welcome, Sandor," Jaime said, rolling his eyes at the big man. "I've told Sansa if she needs anything, she can ask you."

The man grumbled but nodded.

"She can. Don't let your peat go out. If you're not going to be home for a few hours, add more before you leave."

Then he stomped away, and Sansa shot a questioning look to Jaime and the sheep that was glued to his leg. She swore that Buttercup was almost glaring at her. Uncontrolled laughter bubbled out of her.

 _How ridiculous was this?_ _In only the best possible way_ , Sansa thought.

Jaime gathered her back up, and then sheepishly (pun intended) put Buttercup in the back.

"She likes to tag along."

Sansa snorted.

Buttercup was almost like a dog, as her nose made its way to the front where Sansa sat, and she sniffed at her. Suspiciously.

"Are all the animals on Skene so friendly?" Sansa asked Jaime. She realized that he was driving them towards the second white cottage she'd seen when they'd been on the rise above the valley.

Excitement thrummed through her, shocking her. For so long, she'd felt like a nomad, her life split between the Eyrie, Oldtown and Winterfell.

How long had it been since a place had been just hers?

Here on Skene there was no Harry to placate, for this island was a place where he'd never even step foot on, that much she knew.

No family to tell her she couldn't make it on her own, that it was too remote, too far from civilization for her.

And no Ben.

She missed her son, with every breath she took, but she was also very aware that if he'd lived, she would not be here.

And here was proving to be an adventure. As was her custom, whenever the guilt threatened to swamp her, she reminded herself that her son would want her to be happy and to seek new adventures.

Jaime, who had no idea of the complex swirl of emotions that threatened her, gave a smile as they pulled up to the cottage. It was larger than Maege had described, white with a generous sized yard. Jaime had indicated that it was remote, with Sandor's place barely visible as she stepped out of the side by side.

She took a moment to breathe deep, closing her eyes, focusing on the riot of emotions storming through her body, praying that guilt wasn't going to rear its ugly head and take this from her.

To his credit, Jaime said nothing, turning away and giving her as much privacy as possible. It was only Buttercup's soft bleat and the feel of the sheep against her that brought Sansa back. Unconsciously, Sansa stroked her silky ears, pleased when Buttercup leaned into her. The feeling of the sheep's wool grounded her. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and smiled at Jaime.

"Show me my new home, Chief Lannister."

She thought she saw pride in his eyes as he swept his arm to indicate she should go first. Oddly, Sansa got the feeling that Jaime Lannister was adept and astute in reading people.

And while she didn't have anything to hide, per se, she also was reluctant to tell him exactly what her trauma was. So doing what she did best, she pushed it aside and stepped into her new cottage that would be her home for the next year of her life, hoping that she'd made the right choice when she'd come to Skene.

* * *

_ Sansa's first days on Skene– Jaime  _

Hours later, after Jaime had gone through Maege Mormont's cottage with Sansa, shown her how to operate her small vehicle and then followed her back to town to open the museum/library for her, Jaime was still thinking of her.

There was no denying she was an attractive woman, and intelligent if her reason for being on the island were correct. Jaime had to work his butt off to pass his detective exam, but Sansa Stark was here to work on her doctoral thesis. That was impressive stuff.

She was kind, if aloof, and there were these odds sparks of both fire and deep sadness about her that had piqued his interest in her, beyond the fact that her beauty staggered him.

Jaime had always loved feminine women, those that might appear outwardly fragile, but inside hid a spine of steel. He had loved that about Cersei – how she could wear a designer dress as well as anyone, but underneath, and she was no pushover.

Sansa gave him a similar vibe, although she didn't appear to have a cold or calculating bone in her body the way his ex did.

She was blunt, and he caught her blushing a few times when her tone had turned demanding. She'd apologized quickly and said she'd forgotten her manners, but secretly, Jaime was thrilled. There were some big personalities on the island, and he didn't want her to be pushed around by Ygritte, or Bronn. Jaime knew from Maege that Sansa was twenty-eight and here alone. 

He chuckled when she'd picked up the romance novel waiting on her kitchen table in her borrowed cottage, frowning slightly. Jaime saw the post-it note stuck to it.

"What is this?" she'd asked him.

Somehow, and he wasn't ready to admit just how much he liked it, he'd become her go-to source for information.

"Book club. Meets once a month at Val Snow's house. It appears you're invited," Jaime had told her, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

He was pleased when she'd blushed and ducked her head to hide her smile. She wasn't entirely as immune to his charms as she wanted to be, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jaime was interested in a woman.

He didn't know if it was the glimpses of vulnerability, the utter feminine grace, the bright intelligence, or her stunning beauty, but Sansa Stark was a woman that he could not ignore.

And one he was petrified would be off-limits.

Jaime didn't miss the deep well of grief in Sansa, and he'd purposely set out to make her smile, to help ease her transition onto living on Skene.

Being a detective, he'd tried to piece together the clues.

She wore no wedding band, and there was no tan line there, so if she had been married, it was long over. And most widowers, in his experience, kept their wedding bands on when their grief was still so fresh. The sadness, despite her attempts to hide it, radiated off of her.

That led Jaime to conclude that she must have suffered a different type of loss.

Her family? That had to be it.

There was a pull there, to her, to dig, to help her heal, but Jaime also knew he had to be careful. She'd put up some clear warning signs in their time together, including not sharing too much personal information about herself. Which only made him more curious about her story.

Still, Jaime was a patient man, and after he'd explained book club, and showed her how to light the peat fire, and then taken her through the cottage and back to town, he'd left her exploring the little museum where she was slated to start work.

She'd said she'd stop by the station before she went home, and Jaime knew it was her way of telling him she needed space and time alone.

Word of Sansa's arrival spread fast, and Jaime had just made a fresh pot of coffee with Brienne entered the station with Tormund's oldest daughter, Nora. She had just turned ten, and hero-worshiped Brienne, the two of them bonding fast.

"Chief Jaime," she cried happily, seeing him there. She hugged him hard, something Jaime was still getting used to, and then asked if it was true that the library might be opening soon.

He nodded, meeting Brienne's eyes.

"It is. The new …" Jaime was at a bit of a loss on what to call Sansa. She wasn't just a librarian, as she was also now the museum curator.

"The woman who is going to take care of it for the next year arrived, Nora."

She clapped her hands excitedly and turned to Brienne.

"We must bring her a welcome present. Something from Skene, so she'll want to stay."

Then Nora spotted Buttercup, who was sleeping in front of the fire and raced towards the resident island sheep.

Brienne just hummed her agreement and made sure Nora was settling in a corner, with Buttercup, where she dove into a book. Jaime had a feeling that Nora would have another woman to look up to when she met Sansa. As Brienne perched on his desk, Jaime kept his face neutral. Somehow, and he wasn't quite sure how Brienne had this innate ability to read him well.

"So, tell me about her," she demanded quietly.

There were things about Brienne that Jaime would never understand, but one thing was true - she was loyal to a fault and an absolute vault when it came to keeping someone's confidence. If Jaime told Brienne about Sansa, his observations and concerns, he knew she would take them to the grave. Shockingly, they'd become very close, especially since her relationship with Tormund had blossomed.

"She's hurting, Brienne. Grieving if I had to guess. Smart. Capable. Beautiful," he added, unable to help himself.

Thankfully, Brienne let that last observation slide.

"What did she think of the cottage?" Brienne demanded.

She was such a mother hen, Jaime thought suddenly, a grin blooming across his face. She should have half a dozen children. She was so caring if in a blunt way.

"I showed her the basics. It might be good if one of us were to check on her. She met Sandor," Jaime said.

Brienne's scowl deepened. For some reason, the two of them did not get along – at all.

"And?"

Jaime rose to rinse his cup.

"And nothing, Brienne. Sandor was pleasant – well as pleasant as Sandor could be. I told her if she needed anything that he'd be there to help. She also met Buttercup."

Brienne said nothing as she stared at him, waiting for more information, and Jaime shrugged.

"She insisted on driving herself back into town. When I left her, she was going through the thick binder Maege left her at the museum."

She gave him a look, and Jaime held up his hands in defence.

"She seems capable, Brienne and asked to be alone. What was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," the woman finally conceded and then looked over to where Nora was still nose deep in her book. A frown crossed Brienne's face.

"I hope she's what the island needs. With Maege leaving, some of the children have been worried about access to the library."

Jaime suppressed his grin, knowing Brienne wouldn't welcome it. A year ago, the woman had denied anything between her and Tormund, and now she played a very important in the lives of three young girls.

They worked in tandem, comfortable with each other until the door opened late afternoon. Jaime was struck by Sansa's beauty again, as she stood there, rubbing her hands. She gave him a tentative wave and a small smile. He couldn't help but think how tired she looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.

Jaime couldn't help the questions that ran through his head, although he held his tongue.

Why was a woman like her single?

Why didn't she have children?

Was she running from someone or to something coming to Skene?

Thankfully, before he could ask her and make her uncomfortable, Brienne rose and greeted Sansa. Nora was star struck and chattered happily at Sansa about when the library might open, and Brienne informed Jaime that she and Nora would escort Sansa home and drop Buttercup off.

Clearly dismissed, Jaime nodded and then settled back into his chair, a bit out that he didn't have more time with Sansa and was wondering just what life would be like with her on the island.

* * *

_ Book Club – Sansa  _

Sansa's first weeks on the island passed in a blur.

Adjusting to life on Skene was a challenge – a good one but a challenge none the less. It hardly left her with enough time for her grief, which was, she'd discovered a welcome relief.

It appeared that her professor had been correct when he'd said this project would be good for her. Of course, he hadn't counted on her taking on the job as an amateur librarian and museum curator.

Her grumpy neighbour, whom Sansa didn't think was quite as miserable as he liked to pretend, seemed to have an excuse to stop by each day. He'd helped her with her peat fire, and then given her a lesson for her water well, and the backup generator.

Sansa couldn't help but smile as Buttercup followed the big man around her cottage, the sheep having such a huge personality.

"Why is she like what she is?" she asked Sandor one afternoon. He was standing inside her cottage, taking up a massive amount of space. Despite his fearsome face, he didn't scare her in the least.

"Jaime asked the same damn question," he'd muttered, bringing up the one person Sansa had done her best to ignore. Jaime made Sansa feel things – things she wasn't quite sure she was ready to acknowledge or deal with.

She listened as Sandor explained Buttercup's origins and how he'd cared for her.

"And then the entire island basically adopted her," Sansa finished, giving him a knowing look. "You act like a big, mean tough guy, Sandor, but I think you're a softie."

He's blushed furiously but hadn't denied it.

Brienne had taken Sansa under her wing and made a point of checking in with Sansa every day when she came into town to try to ready the little building that house the library/museum.

Nora, the little girl that Sansa had met on her first day, was a font of information and had attached herself to Sansa so that she and her sisters often came to the library after school to check on Sansa.

Sansa found the girls quite interesting as they were very strong-willed and intelligent. She met their father, Brienne's boyfriend, on her third day, and the man had been delighted by her presence on the island. He kept calling her "Kissed by Fire," making Sansa blush.

She might have been worried that Tormund like her if he hadn't been head over heels in love with Brienne. The man made a point of discussing just how much he loved Brienne each chance he saw Sansa. It was sweet.

Given how organized Maege Mormont had been, Sansa was pretty sure she would be ready to open the library by the third Monday of January.

She'd stopped by the police station to find Brienne and get her opinion on how she might announce it to the residents.

As she pushed inside, she found Jaime and the other constable there, a young man her age named Podrick. Sansa had learned from Nora that Pod had asked Dr. Wyn to the Samhain dance a few months ago, and now, according to the ten-year-old, they were "in love."

Pod smiled brightly at Sansa, delighted the library was opening and asking her how she was adjusting to life on Skene.

Sansa studiously avoided looking at Jaime, who was sprawled out in his chair, his hair messed, with a little stubble on his face. It was shocking how attractive the man was, and despite his lazy pose, Sansa knew he didn't miss anything. She suspected that a very intelligent man was behind those deceptively depreciating smiles.

Sansa had lectured herself for weeks that no matter how good looking Jaime was, and no matter how single he was, she was not here for romance. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for romance in her life. What type of person would that make her if she was searching for love when her son was dead?

With that sobering and depressing thought, Sansa fixed a smile on her face and turned to speak with Pod, missing Jaime's frown.

"Are you headed to the book club tonight?" Pod asked.

Sansa wondered if she'd ever meet someone as genuinely lovely as him.

"Yup. Still not sure about the book, but I read it."

She saw Jaime and Pod exchange a look and matching sly grins. Not knowing what she was missing, she glared at them.

"And what do the men do? Sit around and drink beer?"

"You bet, kitten," Jaime said, testing out his nickname for her. She was a feisty thing, with claws. He found he liked it.

"Kitten?"

He grinned.

Sansa huffed. Her heart was racing from that smile that he aimed her way.

The mood was broken when Pod asked if she knew how to get to Jon and Val's house. Saying she did, and needing to get home so she could make her famous spinach and artichoke dip, she bid the two police officers goodbye.

A few hours later, she found herself with a dish in her hand, a book under her arm and a nervous flutter in her stomach.

Gods, how long had it been since she'd tried to make friends?

Before, Benny was born for sure.

Maybe university? It had all seemed so simple back then, moving in with Marg and Ros. Now nothing seemed simple and even this interaction was sending her anxiety skyrocketing.

Before Sansa could knock, the door was flung open, and she was ushered inside the big blue farmhouse by a stunningly beautiful blonde woman.

"Sansa! Welcome. I'm Val," she said warmly.

Sansa smiled instantly at ease. She noticed a very handsome man who looked harried as he was negotiating with a small dark-haired girl to put her boots on.

"Lyanna, Uncle Sandy and Uncle Jaime will be at the pub," he said with the patience of a saint.

She pouted and then shot a shy glance towards Sansa.

"But, _she's_ here."

Sansa's heart just about melted.

"Lyanna, we've discussed this. She's not Merida from Brave."

"But, she looks just like her Daddy."

Sansa couldn't help the laugh that escaped. It had been a long time since anyone had compared her to a princess.

"Our eldest," Val said. "She's obsessed with that movie, ever since Sandor got it for her for Christmas. When she saw you the other day in the village, well…"

"Do you mind if I speak with her?"

Val made the universal gesture for _be my guest_.

Sansa approached the man, who gave her a tired smile.

"Hi, I'm Jon, Val's husband. This is Lyanna, who's being a stubborn as a mule."

Holy moly, they sure made some good looking men on the island, was all Sansa could think as she glanced between Val and Jon. They had a way of communicating with each other that Sansa envied, and she wondered if Val understood just how lucky she was. She hoped so. Fundamentally, Sansa was a woman that believed in love, even if she'd been kicked in the teeth by fate one too many times these days.

Lyanna giggled, and Sansa flashed briefly to the thought that this little girl was the same age as Ben.

Sansa knelt, so they were eye level.

"Hello. I'm Sansa," she said, holding out her hand.

Lyanna shyly pressed herself against Jon's legs.

"Lyanna, you've been speakin' about her for days. Use your words," Jon said, exasperation in his tone.

"Hi. I'm Lyanna. Are you a princess?" she blurted out, and Sansa's grin grew.

"No hunny, I'm not. But I will be opening the library on Monday. What if you asked your Mom if you could come and visit me there. We can pick out a book and read it together."

Her eyes widened, and she nodded eagerly.

"Can we Mama?" Lyanna asked Val.

Val was looking at Sansa like she was some type of toddler whisperer and agreed readily.

With that promise secured, Lyanna demanded to go to the pub to see her Uncles, and Jon flashed Sansa a quick thank you before he gathered his other daughter, kissed his wife and was out the door, leaving Sansa with the women of Skene.

Feeling suddenly exposed, Sansa turned to see several sets of eyes on her. She thrust the dip into the hands of Val, who gave her another one of those friendly smiles and then was grateful when Brienne was at her side. Sansa accepted a glass of wine and a seat on the sofa, wedged between Val and Brienne.

"Don't worry, we'll go easy on you tonight," Ygritte said although there seemed to be a bit of an edge to her tone, and Sansa wondered what that was about.

Val patted Sansa's knee.

“Ygritte is just pissy since Lyanna called you Merida," Val whispered to Sansa.

This entire evening was beginning to make Sansa uncomfortable. There was a reason she'd shied away from attempting to make friends, and it was because she just didn't have the patience or the time for this crap.

As if sensing she was ready to bolt, the older lady, Marya, who ran the only café on Skene, placed a gentle, motherly hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"Stay. Give us a chance," was all she said. Sansa locked eyes with her, begging this woman to get it. She didn't come here to be the subject of gossip. "Ygritte's just a bit bent out of shape because her relationship with Bronn this week is off."

"Oi! I hear you, May, talkin' about me."

Mayra rolled her eyes. "Well, since I wasn't whispering and your ears work, I'd assume so. Admit it. You've been a bitch on wheels to anyone who dares speak to you because Bronn flirted with those hikers on New Year's Eve."

Sansa sipped her wine, drawn into the drama on Skene, despite her best intentions. She watched as the cocky look dropped from Ygritte's face, replaced by one of despair.

"I just don't understand the man," she muttered. "We're perfect together."

A dark-haired woman, named Dacey snorted.

"You two fight like cats and dogs and then makeup like rabbits in season."

Sansa would have blushed had anyone said that about her, but the other redhead just grinned.

"That we do." Then she sent a saucy wink to Dacey. "And what about you, Dacey Mormont? Tell us what our resident island vet has to do to win a date with you?"

Dacey was a stunningly beautiful woman, tall, stacked and with long, glossy brown hair. She had an air of confidence about her, even with a smudge of paint on her gorgeous face.

"Who says I like him? Perhaps I'm holding out for someone else!"

Dacey wiggled her eyebrows, and Sansa got a sneaky suspicion about whom Dacey was referring to. 

Jaime. A fizzle of jealousy worked its way through Sansa, even though she knew she’d never do a thing about it.

Snacks suddenly appeared on the table in front of her, along with extra bottles of wine, and Sansa realized that book club was just an excuse these women used to get together to gossip about their men and life on the island.

"Well, Sandor's half in love with Jeyne, so that's out," Dacey stated, leering at Jeyne.

"Oh, yes, tell us about our grumpy farmer," Wyn asked, swiping a chip through Sansa's dip. "Yum. This is good, Sansa."

She sent a warm smile Sansa's way. Sansa found herself liking Wyn.

"There's not much to tell," Jeyne said.

She was a school teacher who also made woollen sweaters. Sansa had heard Sandor mention Jeyne more than once, so she piped up.

"Sandor says you make the best sweaters on the island. He told me it would be a wise investment for me to get one from you for the coming months."

Jeyne's cheeks pinked up, but her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward.

"Really? He spoke to you about me?"

All of a sudden missing this easy friendship she'd used to have with other women, Sansa nodded.

"Oh, yes. It's always Jeyne this and Jeyne that. I think he really likes you. But …" Sansa paused, wondering if it were her place to say anything.

Ygritte rolled her eyes. "Oh, go on now. Can't leave us hanging now, can you?"

Sansa didn't quite know what to make of the loud redhead, but Jeyne's eager eyes called to her.

"I think he's afraid you'll reject him because of his face. He makes a point not to let me see it, even though it doesn't bother me in the least," Sansa finished in a rush and took a gulp of wine.

Jeyne looked affronted.

"Well, that's just stupid. His face doesn't matter. Have you seen that man's muscles? And his arms?"

“Bet his packing as well,” someone added, and raucous feminine laughter filled the house.

The women encouraged her, and within minutes, it was agreed that Jeyne would ask Sandor out on a date.

"Not like you have a leg to stand on, Dr. Wyn," Dacey said, winking at her friend.

Brienne chuckled.

"It's true," even as Wyn protested.

"It wasn't until Jaime threatened to ask you out that Pod got up the courage to go out with the poor man."

Wyn rolled her eyes.

"As if I'd ever say yes to Jaime. The man hasn’t looked at a woman like that since he moved onto the island. It’d be a waste of time. Too bad, given how good looking he is.”

"Until Sansa," Val said and then shrugged her shoulders when Sansa gave her a startled look.

"What? Until Sansa what?"

"Sorry. It was just something Jon said about you and Jaime," Val continued, eyeing Sansa as if to see that she didn't know that Jaime had been looking at her since the moment she stepped foot on the island.

"He said that Jaime is smitten with you."

Sansa's mouth dropped open.

"Pod said the same thing."

"And Tormund as well," Brienne added, looking a bit uncomfortable. "And umm, maybe he talks about you when we are at the station. A lot."

Sansa was stunned.

Sure, she thought Jaime Lannister was handsome – a dead woman would think that. But Jaime liking her? She wasn't very likeable. She knew this. She was angry, bitter at the world and still working through her grief.

Lost in her thoughts about Jaime, and unable to stop the delightful thrill that ran through her at the mere thought that a man like that found her attractive when he didn't like all these other women, Sansa almost missed the next question lobbed her way.

"So, Sansa, what's the deal. No wedding ring, no kids. Married? Divorced? Never been married? Running from a bad relationship?" Ygritte asked, curiosity on her face.

All the women were now looking at her, and she sensed that they felt a bit protective of Jaime and wanted to make sure that she was good enough for him.

Not that it mattered.

Sansa was NOT on Skene for a romance of any sort. So Ygritte's question threw her off. What did she want these women to know?

Sansa tensed, unsure what she wanted to reveal. She supposed she had to give them something, and their faces looked kind for the most part.

"Um, divorced for over a year. I caught my husband cheating. We met in university in Oldtown."

Then she clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to say more. She didn't know these women, and they didn't need to know about Ben. Ben was hers.

"Shit," Ygritte said. "That doesn't bode well for Jaime then," she muttered, and all the women froze.

"What doesn't bode well for Jaime?" Sansa asked, voice like ice. Suddenly, women that had been open with her were avoiding looking at her.

There was something they all knew and that she didn't, which made her uncomfortable as hell. She wanted to be out of there, right now.

"Well, the fact that he was fucking the Mayor of King's Landing wife all those years and was chased from the capital in a scandal," Ygirtte said, either not realizing the bomb she'd just dropped or not caring. “The man is a known cheater.”

Sansa felt ill and rose, suddenly feeling like an outsider, only to have Val grab her hand.

"Sansa, wait. Please, let us explain."

All the women were glaring at Ygritte for the information she’d just shared. But for the first time, Sansa appreciated the woman's honesty. She doubted the others would have been so candid with her.

Sansa saw Val shrink back at the look she shot her.

"Explain what? Were you going to tell me about Jaime before or after you tried to set us up?" she almost snarled.

Val sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair.

"Just … give us a minute, alright?"

Sansa sat, this time in a chair and crossed her arms while the other women in the room looked at each other. Ygritte at least looked sheepish and slightly ill at what she'd said.

"Ok, so about a year and a half ago, Chief Mormont, Dacey's Uncle, had a major heart attack. He knew that his time to retire was coming up, and began to search for a replacement. As you might imagine, getting anyone to come to Skene can be a bit of a challenge."

"So how did Jaime end up here?" Sansa asked. Something was niggling at the back of her brain, and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it when all the pieces all fell into place.

Val glanced at Brienne, who shrugged.

"Ok, well, Jaime was a detective down in King's Landing – and by all accounts, a great one."

"Val just spit it out," Dacey said, a sad, tight look on her face. It was clear that Dacey saw the hurt and anger on Sansa's face and knew that dancing around this would be worse. “She deserves the truth.”

"Ok, so the thing is, apparently Jaime got involved with a woman that wasn't his wife, and when their relationship became public," Val didn't finish when Sansa suddenly remembered the colossal scandal that had rocked King's Landing, her father's best friend Robert, and his wife, Cersei.

She stood.

“I mean, he was the biggest cheater of them all. He was with her for years, even as she had another man’s children,” Ygritte added unnecessarily.

"Stop. I know who Jaime Lannister is."

The disgust in her voice had some of the women looking at one another, and Sansa felt like even more of an outsider.

Of course, they'd take his side. They'd probably take Harry's side if she were to tell them the end to her marriage.

After all, she was the ice queen, right? Poor Harry had needed comfort and she’d barely been able to stand his touch.

Sansa was done with men that cheated and fucked their way through life, discarding vows like they did their underwear. She took a moment to think about what she knew about Jaime.

While her world had been imploding, her son getting sicker and sicker, Jaime Lannister had been embroiled in the scandal of the decade in the capital. She had barely paid attention, only catching it on the news from time to time when insomnia from grief refused to allow her to sleep. At the time, it had barely registered, and when it did, the disgust she felt towards the man manifested in anger.

She'd caught clips of him saying how 'devastated' he was by everything that he'd been through and that it wasn't what it seemed.

She'd scoffed when she'd seen him on the news, surrounded by his expensive lawyers and a team of PR people meant to make him look better.

Jaime had no idea what devastation was.

Devastation was picking out a child-sized coffin for your dead son.

Devastation was designing their headstone.

Devastation was holding your child as they died.

Devastation was not getting caught cheating.

Then her grief had overwhelmed her, and Sansa had forgotten all about Jaime Lannister.

Until now.

She felt her world spin and thought she might be sick. Glancing around, she found the door and was outside before she could grab her coat, making her way to her side by side. She couldn't believe she'd somehow ended up on a remote island with a man that disgusted her.

And that her new “friends” were trying to set her up with. This was why being alone was better. 

"Sansa wait," Brienne called, hurrying to catch her.

Sansa spun back, the words on the tip of her tongue, ready to lash out.

"Sansa, please, just listen," Brienne pleaded, holding up her hand.

Sansa's eyes flashed. "He's a cheater who got caught. Enough said."

"Do I look like a woman that would be friends with a man that is a scumbag? There is more to Jaime than what the news portrayed, Sansa."

"Answer me this, Brienne. Did he sleep with Cersei when she was married to Robert?"

Brienne's blue eyes told the truth. "Yes."

"Then that's enough for me. Tell him to stay the hell away from me, Brienne. I mean it. If he sees me, tell him to turn away. I don't have to stay here. If you guys want your library open, you'll do your best to keep Jaime as far from me as possible."

Brienne sighed but nodded.

"I'll speak with him," she said softly, disappointment in her eyes.

Sansa didn't care. Brienne didn't know her story, and her trust felt like it had been violated.

Sansa glanced up to see the rest of the women ranged behind Brienne. She didn't know if it was the hurt from Harry, her old anger at Jaime, which was decidedly unfair, or her grief at missing her son, but all of it manifested inside her and was now directed at Jaime.

Without saying another word, Sansa got into her side by side and roared away, feeling more alone than she ever had, and wondering if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life coming to Skene, and wondering what it might cost her to stay and if the price would be worth it.

* * *


	6. The fallout of the secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime learns what happened at Book Club and the residents of Skene aren't willing to let things die between these two

* * *

[Picset by Brewery](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621023112295858177)

[Sandor Picset By Bewery](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621023039585468417)

[Pub night Picset by Brewery](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621023010416197632/i-love-this-story-so-very-much-it-is-so-dear-to)

* * *

_ The aftermath of Book Club – Jaime  _

When Brienne entered the station the morning after book club, Jaime was nursing both a slight hangover and a sense of curiosity. He had arrived early, making the coffee and picking up pastries, eager to see Brienne.

He wanted to grill his friend on everything that had happened last night, including how Sansa had liked meeting the women of Skene.

Jaime had hoped that being welcomed by them would make her feel a little bit more like she was part of something on the island. Jaime knew first hand it could be intimidating to come to a place where everyone already knew one another. Thankfully, the people here were more than willing to accept newcomers and Jaime wanted the same reception for Sansa that he had.

Then he saw the grim look on Brienne's face. His stomach sank, and the nausea was back with a vengeance. Brienne would never be the world’s best poker player. In fact, Jaime doubted she could hide a thing.

"What happened?" he asked, genuinely worried.

He knew it was ridiculous these feelings that he already had for the mysterious redhead. Sansa hadn't asked for his attention, nor did he get the feeling she would like it, but Jaime already felt protective of her. It was clear that something devastating had happened to her before she ended up on Skene. She was so alone – even more so than he’d been and that ate him.

Gods, he just wanted to swoop in and wrap her up in his arms and promise he’d fight whatever demons she had. Not that she didn’t seem capable – Sansa had a core of steel that Jaime recognized straight away.

But still. She was alone and he’d encouraged her to go out to Val’s last night.

Did the women at the book club do something to her?

When Jon arrived at the pub, he'd said that Sansa had seemed to be ok, and all Lyanna could talk about was Princess Merida. Jaime learned Merida was a fictional character, but one whom Lyanna believed Sansa to be. Pleased that someone had seemed as taken with Sansa as he was, Jaime hadn’t worried anymore.

But now – now he knew something had happened.

Brienne sighed deeply and gave Jaime such a look of sympathy that he knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say. He was seated, so she towered over him as she sat on one side of his desk.

"As you know, the book club is mostly a chance for women to get together and gossip."

Jaime glowered. Brienne was stalling, which was something she almost never did. He didn’t have time for this. He had to know what had happened.

"Just tell me what the fuck happened, Brienne."

Her eyes narrowed, and then she blurted out, "Sansa was married. She divorced her husband because he cheated on her. And then Ygritte let it slip about you and Cersei."

Immediately the impact of those words coursed through Jaime. His palms dampened immediately as if he could see any possibility between him and Sansa slipping away before his eyes.

He rose. He knew he was vibrating with barely suppressed rage.

"What. Did. She. Say?"

To her credit, Brienne didn't flinch, even as Jaime channelled his inner Tywin to whip the words out, each one like a slap.

"She told Sansa that you'd been sleeping with Cersei for years – even as she had another man's children, that you stayed with her."

"And?"

Brienne's eyes showed the pain that her next words would bring.

"And Sansa cut her off and said she knew who you were.”

There was nothing good in that statement. One of the best things about Sansa was that she hadn’t seemed to know who he was. If she did now…

“What happened next?” he managed to croak out, even as it felt like his world was imploding.

“Then she… Jaime, she was so upset," Brienne tried to say, shaking her head.

"What happened?" Jaime demanded. He needed to know.

"She told us that she wants you to stay away from her. That if you're around her, she'll leave. Leave the island. She said she doesn't want anything to do with you, Jaime."

He sat again, stunned and sickened by what had happened. Not that he'd ever planned on lying to Sansa, but he was sure there had to be a better way to tell her about his decisions with regards to Cersei, than how it had all come out – at a book club with people she barely knew.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you… did you try to tell her I wasn't a bad guy?" his voice was so quiet he wasn't sure Brienne heard it. This past year in Skene, Jaime had started to believe it. That maybe he wasn’t meant to be alone, as long as he could find the right person, to forgive him for his mistakes.

She wiped away a tear.

"Yeah, I did, Jaime. But she didn't want to hear it. I got the impression she was really hurt by her husband. I'm not making excuses for her, or us, but it wasn’t good."

That had colour blooming across Jaime's face.

While he knew he was responsible for his own actions his own choices when it had come to Cersei, he was pissed as fuck at the women of Skene. For a year, they'd respected his privacy and barely said a word to him about Cersei.

But Sansa was here for what? Two weeks? And already they were talking about him and his affair.

Why did this even come up?

"How did this come up?" he asked, voice low and deadly.

Brienne wouldn't meet his eyes until he stood and slammed his fist on the desk.

"How the fuck did this come up, Brienne?"

"It was all of us, Jaime. We were just talking, and someone mentioned that you seemed to like Sansa…"

She trailed off as Jaime rose and then smashed his fist into a wall, his back to her. His breathing was coming in fast pants, and it felt like his world was spinning out of control. He could feel the anger pouring off of him. Looking down, his hand had a bunch of tiny cuts on it that were oozing blood – not that he cared. The physical pain didn’t feel anything like the emotional hell he was going through.

Why did they have to interfere?

Couldn't they see that she was grieving?

Couldn’t they see, like he did, that something chased her up here?

Why couldn't they have left well enough alone?

Before anyone could ask her, earn her trust, learn her story, they'd scared her away. These gossipy, nosy women. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the first ferry out of here.

"You just couldn't leave it be, could you?"

For three years now, Jaime hadn't even looked at another woman. Then, Sansa has stepped onto the island and his entire body, mind and heart had felt drawn to her.

And before he could even be Sansa's friend, it was all ashes. He knew it and judging by the look on Brienne’s face, she did as well.

"Jaime, we didn't mean anything by it. We had no idea …"

He whirled back to pin her with his green eyes, that were flashing with fury. Had Brienne known his father, she would have recognized the look on Jaime’s face. It was one of an angry lion, and one that vowed vengeance.

Instead, she shrunk back, ashamed of the role she’d played in all of it.

"That's right. You had no idea, and no business getting involved. It's my private life. Tell your book club I want to talk to them. Tonight. The pub."

With that, he stormed out of the station and dove into his side by side. Right now, he was thankful that Skene was so sparsely populated because the last thing he wanted to do was run into anyone he knew.

* * *

A few hours later, Jaime came back. He'd gone to the North end of the island, lost himself in the raw beauty of the land. He hadn't seen a soul, but as soon as he was back into service, his phone chimed, and Pod said that they were all waiting for Jaime at the pub.

His anger flared again when he saw that text. Frustrated, he zoomed towards Bronn’s pub.

For a year, he'd felt like he'd found his place in this world, finally. He'd thrown himself into life on Skene and made a point to be open with these people. It felt like they had betrayed that with what had happened last evening.

He entered Bronn's pub and saw his friends there – some of them with their wives and girlfriends, others just grouped together. Thankfully it was early enough that they were the only ones present.

Jaime could see that the guilt on the eyes of the women – especially Val, Wyn and Ygritte.

Wasting no time, he snarled, "I've been here one year, and none of you have said a word about me dating. Not once was I bothered about my private life. These two," Jaime said, pointing to Bronn and Tormund, "At least had the balls to say something to my face about Cersei."

Val moved closer to Jon, who didn't look happy with his wife. Ygritte's eyes were almost murderous, and Wyn whispered sorry. Even Brienne appeared cowed.

"That one," Jaime said, pointing to Jon, "Had every reason to have a stick up his arse when it came to trusting a man that slept with a married woman. And we worked it out. So please explain to me why you lot took it upon yourself to thrust Sansa, a newcomer to the island, a woman who clearly has her secrets, into the spotlight by attempting to push us together?"

There was silence in the pub, and Jaime wanted to roar in frustration.

"Don't you get it? You all have been friends for years. She's new. And unless you're all very foolish, which I know you are not, she's skittish and hurt. How could you miss that?"

Mayra, bless her, stepped forward.

"We're sorry, Jaime. We got caught up in our excitement. We love you. You're one of us. And since you've come to Skene, you've hardly looked at a woman – not like you've looked at her. We just wanted you to be happy."

As sudden as the anger came, it leached out of Jaime, his shoulders sagging. He knew that their intentions had been good. That was the craziest part – they did love and accept him.

"Well, you've practically guaranteed that won't happen. She hates me and doesn't want to be around me at all,” he whispered brokenly.

The looks of pity on the faces of his friends threatened to undo Jaime, so he turned away from them.

"What can we do?"

He made it to the door and turned back, his eyes conveying that hurt he felt. 

"Nothing. You've all done enough. I'll leave her alone, and you lot better figure out how to make her feel welcome."

With that, he was gone, off to drown his sorrows by himself.

What Jaime missed when he left the pub, was his friends, who laid into the women of the book club. All the women apologized, and even Ygritte attempted to look contrite.

“We just wanted to help,” came the tortured whispers.

Belatedly Wyn remembered how Jaime had respected her privacy when she hadn’t shared why she’d come North and felt even worse that they hadn’t done the same with Sansa.

It was agreed that Brienne and Val would attempt to make amends with Sansa while the other women gave her space.

The men were not happy with their wives and girlfriends, and there wasn't a member of the book club who didn't feel awful for how things went down the previous evening.

"We had good intentions," Val whispered, feeling wretched. Jon hugged her, even though he hadn't been pleased when his wife had told him everything that had happened.

"I know." Jon did know. Val had a good heart, even if she got caught up in things sometimes, without thinking them through.

"Do you think there is any hope for them?" Wyn asked.

Now that she had Pod, she saw everything through love-filled eyes. She wanted that for her friends, and Jaime was their friend. No one missed how devastated he’d looked.

Dacey snarled and glared at everyone.

"Just give them space. We can, at least, respect her request. And Jaime doesn’t need our interference."

With that, Dacey stomped out of the pub, frustrated with all of them.

"I'll check in on the two of them," Brienne said, and Pod nodded.

"As will I."

Knowing there was nothing more they could do, a few of the locals ended up staying, while others made their way home. That night, in their bed, as Val lay in Jon's arms, she turned and hugged her husband hard.

"Babe, what's up?" he asked, sleepily.

"I just love you so much, Jon."

Val knew she'd misstepped with Sansa. She hadn't made her feel welcome, had allowed Ygritte and her catty and snappy remarks to carry the tone last night and gone alone with the gossipy banter that they were used to. It had to be overwhelming for someone new to their group, and as host, Val had a responsibility to have done things better.

Val hadn't missed the longing in which Sansa had looked at Lyanna with, nor the pain in Jaime's eyes whenever he looked at some of the couples on Skene. Both of them seemed so lonely.

Val knew she lead a blessed life, and she wanted that for people she cared about. That was why she vowed to do whatever it took to make this right- and help both Jaime and Sansa find the happiness that she had with Jon. Val didn’t care how long this took, she would make things right between Jaime and Sansa.

* * *

_ Sansa _

As promised, Sansa opened the library on Monday morning.

She'd hidden away from the village of Skene and their nosy residents, preparing herself for Monday and working on her thesis. Thankfully, the weather had been awful and rainy and had kept her in her cottage like the hermit she'd become. At least Skene had excellent internet, so she’d been able to lose herself in research for most of the time.

As she drove into the village on Monday morning, she thought of how she’d just spent the past few days. Her weekend reminded her of the long, lonely days she spent in the Eyrie after Ben's death.

Was this her lot in life?

To be alone for the rest of her days?

Objectively she knew that she was most likely transferring some of her betrayal and anger onto Jaime and the women of the book club.

She was hurting and her grief over the implosion of her marriage and the death of Ben caused her to lash out. She’d thought she’d been doing much better, but maybe this was what her life would now be – two steps forward, five giant ones back.

The women were nosy, yes, but no worse than what she'd put up with when she'd been Harry's arm candy. And definitely no worse than the outcast she’d been treated as after Ben had died. Then people that had been her friends crossed the street to avoid talking to her as if her child dying was somehow a communicable disease.

Sansa knew what that was about – she was the reminder that bad things could and did happen to children. The living embodiment of every mother’s worst nightmare come true. And she no longer had a living child, so all those people, all those groups that she’d once been a part of, were now off-limits to her. It’s why she’d spent so much time hiding in her house in the Eyrie.

But even with the logical part of her brain telling her that she’d overreacted to everything, it felt good to hold onto her anger – even when she knew it was self-righteous.

It gave her something different to be upset about – instead of focusing on how pathetic her life had become.

Jaime was the one who was the cheater, and the women had pushed and pushed her. Therefore they were all to blame, not her.

Still, she felt slightly embarrassed by her speech the other night, outside Val Snow's beautiful house.

Now that she'd essentially drawn her line in the sand when it came to Jaime, would the village reject her? Or would people understand why she felt the way she did?

Sansa hadn’t been lying when she said she could leave. Oddly enough, that thought just filled her with exhaustion. There were some things she liked on Skene.

Her cottage.

The slower pace.

The wide-open spaces.

She wasn’t quite ready to give those things up – yet.

The worst part of the entire evening was that Sansa didn't feel she had the tools to make amends nor the motivation.

What did it really matter if these people all hated her, or thought she was some overwrought emotional bitch?

Skene wasn't her home. This wasn't permanent. She didn't have a home anymore. So while she liked it here, she wasn’t staying.

When she got to the library, she’d half expected to be greeted (accosted) by a welcome committee, but all was quiet outside her doors.

Sansa had been open for a few hours, working on outlining her Ph.D. research project, having helped a few patrons that had wandered in, when the door opened, and little Lyanna Snow dashed inside.

"Sansa!" she cried happily, upon spotting her.

Heart aching only a little, Sansa barely glanced at Val as she came out from behind her desk to greet the happy girl. Val had her other daughter, Ella, in a stroller, so Lyanna was free to take Sansa's hand. It was so much pudgier and healthier than Ben's had ever been, the cancer having eaten away at what baby fat he'd had.

Momentarily lost in her memories, Sansa finally focused enough to help Lyanna find a book about cats. They had just read through it, when Val appeared again, having given them space.

Sansa knew this was an olive branch, that the woman was reaching out to her.

She knew it, and so did Val, with her perky smile and perfect hair and blindingly white smile.

Ugh.

This was the type of mother Sansa used to be. 

Faced with all that, Sansa couldn't make her expression any less hard.

She felt like the only way to protect herself from these people was to build a wall around herself and not let them in.

Sansa could hardly stand any more hurt in her life – she already felt ancient from what she'd gone through.

"I'm so sorry about the other night," Val started to say.

A massive part of Sansa wanted to smile, to forgive her, to be normal and paste a smile on her face and make amends.

But she just couldn't. She could feel the fury, and the hurt and the embarrassment curling in her guts, twining like snakes and making the harsh words spew forth.

"Is that how all newcomers are treated? Grilled about their private lives and then set up with the resident scummy single guy?"

Val frowned.

"Well, no. I mean, Ygritte was out of line, but it wasn't malicious. I think you're overreacting to a bit of fun …"

Sansa interrupted.

"Oh, that's good. I'm the one that's overreacting. I'm the one that doesn't know anyone – the outsider. So of course, it's my fault. Blame the new girl.”

Before Val could counter, Sansa continued on her tangent.

"And if that's what you people call fun, I'd hate to see what you do when you're in a bad mood."

Val's frown deepened.

"Look, Sansa, like I said. I'm really sorry. We didn't mean anything bad. We all love Jaime, and we thought that with him and you…"

Sansa's laugh was bitter as she shook her head.

"That's right. You all _didn't_ think. You had no idea what my life was like before here, and before you even got to know me, you were trying to hook me up with _him_. Gods, am I that pathetic that the only person that’s good enough for me is the guy most women in Westeros hate?”

Sansa made sure she made Jaime seem like he was the last man she'd ever be interested in.

Val’s face paled, and she bit at her lip nervously, as if she hadn’t quite expected this level of anger.

Gods, it felt good, Sansa thought, even as the guilt over how she was behaving crept in a tiny bit.

"Ok, fair enough. I can see we overstepped. But we didn't know, and we just wanted you both to be happy."

Fueled by her own self-righteousness, Sansa laughed bitterly and shook her head.

"No. Stop. Val, you might mean well. You might even be a really good person. But honestly? Right now, it's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to slap you."

Val looked shocked, but Sansa didn't care. She pushed on, regardless of the consequences.

"You have a perfect life, Val. A gorgeous husband that adores you. Two healthy, beautiful children. A home. A life. Friends. Tell me, what can you possibly know about someone like me?"

Val was too stunned to say anything, the hurt on Sansa's face palpable. Her grief, her anger, was almost like a living thing, and Val didn't miss the reference to healthy children.

Val nodded with a sinking heart and knew that if she stayed, she'd just push Sansa even further away.

"You're right. I don't know. I don't know what you went through before you came here. I'm sorry."

She went to gather her children, leaving Sansa standing there alone. Right before they left, Lyanna turned to wave at Sansa, who appeared shell shocked, the ‘high’ of lashing out now leaving her.

"If she wants to come back, I'll get Jon to bring her. I am sorry, Sansa," Val said softly, before slipping out of the library.

After she was gone, Sansa flipped the lock to close, curled up in a chair for the patrons and cried.

She didn't know if her tears were for the friendship she'd surely just destroyed, the bitter woman she'd become or the loneliness that coursed through her.

Or some combination of it all.

But as she sobbed, she rocked herself, wondering what gods she had angered that her life was so miserable and the hurt so huge it felt like a gaping wound that would never heal.

* * *

_ Val – Mayra's Café  _

After leaving the library, Val texted Brienne and asked if she had time to meet. Brienne responded right away that she did, and soon the two women were in Mayra's café.

Val wiped away tears as she told Brienne what she learned.

"I think it's more than her husband or the divorce. The way she is with my kids? She's a mom, Brienne, I know it."

Brienne frowned always thinking like a cop. 

"Then why is she here alone?"

Val shook her head, looking over at Lyanna, who was happily helping Mayra behind the counter. Davos and Mayra were their defacto grandparents, with Jon’s mom dead and his father never having been part of his life.

"I don't know, but the way she said it, I think maybe if she had a child, they are dead."

Val's voice hitched. It was the stuff of every mother's nightmare, and she couldn't imagine what Sansa might be going through if her suspicions were correct. How did a person recover from that?

"She's pissed at us, and I get it. I do. We screwed up Brienne."

Brienne sighed. Jaime had been closed off and moody since the pub, and Tormund had whined that the women had broken his friend. In fact, Brienne had been ordered by Tormund to ‘fix things.’ Brienne was trying. 

"Well, what do we do?"

Val said nothing, playing with her cup, thinking. She was a fixer, a woman that liked to be there, in the middle of things. She knew she was blessed with an amazing life and well-liked on the island. Jon was a moody guy, and she had made him mostly into someone that smiled a lot. But she knew she was out of her depth when it came to Sansa.

She reached for Brienne's hand.

"I think we need to do what she says, but we need to show her how great Jaime is. And that we're not awful people."

"How?"

Val grinned.

"Our kids. Our husbands and boyfriends. I think the women overstepped, but she seems to like Lyanna. And she didn't object when I said I'd have Jon bring her back to the library. And you, Brienne. She seems to like you."

Brienne shook her head.

"I don't know. Jaime was pissed when we interfered, Val."

"I know. But this isn't interference. This is us helping her. And him."

"He won't go near her. When he heard what she said, he told me that he'd do his best to stay out of her way."

Val shrugged.

"Fair enough. But Skene is small. And there are plenty of opportunities for us to work out magic."

Brienne finally agreed, and the two of them sat there in companionable silence for a time, watching Val's kids with their surrogate grandmother.

"What if she did lose a child, Brienne? How do you recover from that?" Val asked softly, voice aching with empathy for a woman she hardly knew. She didn't blame Sansa at all for what she might be feeling. Such a loss had to be almost crippling. And then to lose your husband on top of it? Val wanted to be sick at the thought of it. She couldn’t imagine her life without Jon by her side. The man was her rock.

Brienne, who'd only recently become a sort of stepmom, couldn't say anything. She'd be gutted if anything happened to any of Tormund's daughters – she already loved them deeply.

"All we can do is be there for her, Val. In any way, she lets us," Brienne finally said, both women on the same page when it came to Sansa Stark.

* * *

_ Sansa  _

Sansa spent the rest of the week studiously avoiding the residents of Skene as best she could. As luck would have it, the weather wasn't great, and only a few patrons entered the library each day, most of them older, or people she had yet to meet.

Val never returned with Lyanna, and even though Brienne and Pod popped by, none of the other women from the book club did.

Tormund’s daughters would often all run over to the library after school, and Sansa got to know Nora, Thea and Maja well. They were sweet girls if a little wild. Sansa knew that Tormund adored Jaime, but the teacher never said a word about his friend, instead of telling Sansa fun little facts about Skene and asking her non-threatening questions.

She found she liked Tormund immensely and could tell why Brienne was smitten with him. Underneath that gruff and loud exterior, the man had a heart of gold.

True to his word, Sansa didn't see Jaime at all when she was in town. She had no idea how he did it, but he made a point of never being where she was.

Oddly enough and she hated this about herself, she found she missed his easy grin.

She was so angry that he was such a crappy guy when he'd been the first person to make her feel like a woman so long that she avoided staying in the village any longer than she had to. Why couldn’t he be … different?

What Sansa missed was that had Jaime been ‘different,’ more like Jon or Tormund or even Pod, he’d most likely be married with a whole bunch of children.

Thankfully, her neighbour, one grumpy Sandor Clegane, wasn't much for talking. He'd shown up the second night after she'd been at work with a six-pack of beer and said little as they'd sat and sipped them side by side, watching Buttercup run through her property.

"You ok?" he's asked on the third night, and she nodded.

"Yup."

"Don't get all chirpy on me, little bird," he told her, a slight smirk on his face. She stuck her tongue out at him. For some reason, she got along with this man, even though they didn’t say much.

"What's up with you and Jeyne? Are you scared she won't say yes to a date because of your face?" Sansa asked, as bold and as bluntly as she could.

He spat out his beer and glowered at her. She didn't care. He'd either answer her or he wouldn't.

This new her felt good – almost like she was high on the recklessness that came from not caring if she hurt people.

A glower from Sandor made her feel a bit ashamed, and he heaved out a sigh.

"Look, I know you're hurting little bird. It's obvious to anyone who spends time with you," he said when she went to open her mouth. He simply talked over her.

"But we aren't your asshole ex who cheated on you. We're not the people that hurt you. Keep this up, and you'll drive us all away, and then you'll really be alone.” He paused, then shrugged. “Maybe that’s what you want. Not my place to tell another person how to live their life.”

With that, Sandor whistled for Buttercup, the sheep bleating angrily at Sansa and drove away, leaving her feeling like a jerk. She went inside and tried to push Sandor's words out of her brain.

What did he know about her? She thought angrily.

Wasn't like he'd gone through what she had.

He had no right to say that to her – to judge her or her anger.

None of them did. None of them knew hurt as she did. None of them had ever had to hold their child as they took their last breath. None of them had to try to live in this world when all you wanted to do was curl up and die right alongside your baby.

But that night, she tossed and turned.

She liked Sandor. He was grumpy, but a good guy. And she could see she'd upset him.

When sleep eluded her, she got up early and baked up a batch of muffins and then made her way to his farm. When she pulled in the yard, Jaime was there. It was the first time she'd seen him since the book club blow up.

She wished he wasn't so handsome and that her body didn't respond to his, but it did.

A part of her felt even worse when he gave her a short, polite nod and slipped into his vehicle and drove away. It was clear he'd been here to visit with his friend, but because of her, he'd left. Respecting her wishes.

Gods, they hadn’t even exchanged two words since her book club blow up.

Feeling even worse, she trudged inside Sandor's house and handed him the muffins.

"Here."

"What are these for?"

She sighed.

"Because you were right. I was a jerk. To you," she qualified.

The jury was still out on Jaime and the women. She still thought him a dirtbag. His 'crime' still hit too close to home for her. She wasn’t ready to take a chance at being friends with a man like that.

Sandor nodded and took them and then studiously avoided talking about Jaime. It was only when she left when Sandor called out to her.

"He's not that bad of a guy, little bird. Maybe give him a chance."

He didn't even wait for her smart ass reply before he turned and went to feed his chickens.

Sansa climbed into her vehicle and drove into the village, as Sandor pulled out his phone. He hated Brienne, but he’d been let in on her and Val’s little plan.

“She was just here,” he said without preamble. “Jaime didn’t even say hi. Just took off.”

“And?”

Sandor heaved out a sigh. “For fuck sakes, what do you want? I’m not a mind reader.”

Brienne snapped back. “Did they look at each other? Was there at least some type of acknowledgement?”

“Seven hells. He looks fucking miserable and she’s not much better.”

With that Sandor hung up the phone. He knew there would be hell to pay if this ‘plan’ didn’t work out, and since he liked both Jaime and Sansa it fucking sucked he was in the middle of it. Stubborn fucking people.

Frustrated with herself, with the women and to Jaime who were listening to her, and staying away, Sansa spent the next few weeks rolling Sandor's words over in her mind.

_Jaime wasn’t a bad guy._

He wasn’t the first person to say that.

Brienne had. And Val. And now Sandor.

And the more she thought about Jaime, even though she did not want to, the more it seemed he was everywhere.

Oh, not that he was in her space. He avoided her like the plague, as she'd demanded. But as January rolled into February, he was suddenly in the village – always.

She saw him with his stupid sheep, laughing as he walked her through town. The thing gazed at him adoringly, and Sansa wondered if Buttercup would think so highly of Jaime if she knew he’d slept with a married woman.

Tormund's daughters all but hung off him, as he chased them around and admonished them to keep their father in line.

He often had Lyanna on his shoulders. They could be seen at Mayra’s café most afternoons sharing some sweet treat. Not that Sansa was looking. She wasn’t. It was just hard to miss.

He was helpful to Aemon, the oldest island resident. Jaime could often be seen driving the old fella around, helping him with his groceries and then taking him to the pub.

Sansa saw him helping Bronn unload crates of beer, and often Bronn was hugging Jaime and laughing loudly with him.

Everywhere she turned, she saw Jaime!

And he _was_ a nice guy.

She just didn't get why everyone was willing to give him a pass when he clearly was a cheater!

He was caught! His entire affair had played out for a rapt audience in Westeros.

Didn't they see that? How could they trust him?

Sansa thought of what it felt like to find out that Harry had slept with another woman. She knew their marriage was doomed, had even worked through that with her therapist.

But knowing that Jaime, a man she'd been slightly interested in, was like Harry – well, it felt like it had broken something in her. She clearly could not trust her judgement when it came to men, if she was attracted to those like Jaime and Harry.

As February rolled on, it looked like most people were giving her space.

Sansa knew she'd asked for it, her anger towards Jaime and then her freak out on Val now the stuff old island gossip.

The space was fine since she was used to it. It'd had happened in the Eyrie. Sansa knew it was her fault, but she as much as she wanted to try to make amends, the words just seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Gods, grief was exhausting.

It had robbed so much of her – more than just her child and her marriage. It had taken her hope, her happiness, her willingness to invest in friendships.

Unknown to Sansa, was that as much as she was watching Jaime, Brienne and Pod were watching her. And Brienne knew that Sansa longed to be welcomed back into the easy friendships that came with living on Skene.

And that Sansa was interested in Jaime. No matter what she might say, Brienne saw the look Sansa got in her eyes each time she spotted Jaime doing something nice. It only made Brienne more determined to help these two find their way back to one another and she slyly enlisted the help of more than one island resident to put her and Val’s plan into action.

Up next was Jon Snow.

It had been a month since Sansa had freaked out on Val, and so Brienne told Val to tell Jon to take Lyanna to visit Sansa at the library.

Jon had muttered about them ‘interfering’ but even he could see Jaime and Sansa were miserable.

It was a cold day, mid-February, when Jon was suddenly there with Lyanna.

Sansa smiled at the picture the two of them made. Jon was such a hands-on father, and she knew that this man loved his child – not as an accessory which had been how Harry viewed children, but because this was his daughter.

Of all her screwups on Skene, she hadn't managed to mess things up with the little girl.

"Hi Sansa," Jon said, giving her a soft smile.

Her lip quivered. She'd been a total jerk to his wife. His beautiful, perfect wife. And here he was, being nice to her. Gods, she was such a bitch.

"Hi."

"Lyanna was telling me about the great book you helped her pick out," Jon said, and Sansa wondered why he was so nice to her.

Not brave enough to address the major blow out she’d had with Val, and taking her cues from him, Sansa took Lyanna's hand and wandered over the children's section.

Sansa had set a few books aside for the little girl, including a brand new on with a red-haired princess. Lyanna gasped happily as they settled in to read. Half an hour later, Sansa left the little girl curled up on a chair while she searched for Jon.

He looked up from the laptop he was working on and showed her the webpage he was working on for their goat products. She took a seat and looked at him.

Val really had it all. A beautiful family, a gorgeous husband, and a life here on Skene. It would be hard not to be envious of the woman, even if Sansa’s own world hadn’t imploded like it had.

Jon gave her a soft smile, and she knew that he knew all about Sansa flipping out on Val. It was clear these two didn’t have any secrets. Half afraid Jon was going to bring up Val, she was startled when he spoke of his family.

"My mother went to King's Landing when she was young – only twenty-one. Left her family, not that they were much to write home about. She met a man, my father. He was married, but she didn't know that. Long story short, I was raised by a single mother while my very wealthy father ignored her and me."

Despite herself, Sansa found herself drawn into Jon's story and, for the first time in a while, was focused on someone else's pain and not hers.

"I'm sorry."

Jon shrugged.

"For a lot of years, I carried around anger like a chip on my shoulder. Still there from time to time, when I let it manifest. I hated anyone who cheated, thought they were all scumbags. Was even pissed at my mom for a time. How could she have gotten involved with someone like that?”

He rubbed at his face, covered in a neat little beard.

"Look, I don't know your past, Sansa. And I would never attempt to compare my pain to yours. But Val told me about your husband. So I get it. I do, when it comes to Jaime. You and I have a reason to hate people that cheat on their spouses. I'd sooner cut my leg off than cheat on my wife. So to say I had an issue with Jaime when he showed up might be a bit of an understatement."

Sansa snorted.

Jon grinned sheepishly.

"I gave him a hard time – while others loved him. I couldn't figure it out. How could they like a guy that slept with a married woman for all those years?"

Sansa hummed her agreement. She finally felt like a person on the island understood her anger with Jaime.

Jon sighed and glanced towards her daughter.

"I'll give him his due, Sansa. He didn't shy away from what he'd done. He owned it. And he told me he didn't owe me any explanation, but that he’d messed up. I respected him more after that, but that didn’t make us friends. Just made me a bit less hostile towards him.”

“What happened?” Sansa asked, intrigued in spite of her better judgement.

“A few months later when Val and I woke up and discovered Lyanna missing."

The fear was still there, and Sansa saw it on Jon's face.

Her own heart raced, thinking about what Jon might have gone through. She was always a mom, and the mere thought of Benny disappearing had her heart in her throat. Jon didn't miss the look of abject fear on her face.

That's when he knew that Sansa had been a mom – and that something terrible must have happened for her to be here alone. He knew she’d never willing live somewhere her child wasn’t.

It gave him a clue as to why she was so angry and hurt. Those few hours Lyanna had been missing were some of the worst in his life.

"What happened?"

"Jaime happened. He just took over, coordinated the search. He was my search partner – kept me calm, assured me we’d find her. I was an ass to him, and he just stepped up. Yeah, he was doing his job. But it was more than that. I could tell he cared. We found Lyanna curled up in a small wood around Buttercup. She was chasing fairies."

Sansa and Jon both looked at the little girl who waved at them, unaware of what she’d put the people who loved her through.

"Gods, we try so hard to protect them, don't we?" she whispered, her face haunted.

“We do. And even then, sometimes, it’s not enough.”

She gave a small nod. “No, it’s not. Sometimes, nothing we do is enough.”

Jon covered her hand with his and felt his heartbreak for this woman. She seemed good – and that she’d been dealt a shitty hand.

Dead kid, cheating husband? No wonder she was a mess. 

"I won't tell anyone, Sansa. It's your story. But these people? They're good. They messed up, on book club night, no arguments there. But if you let them in? You won't regret it. They’re loyal and stubborn and they love deeply."

Sansa said nothing but nodded. "And Jaime?"

Jon shrugged.

"I won't lie and say I understand why he did what he did. But it's his story. He's a good guy. He messed up, but he's a good guy."

Lyanna hopped off her seat when Jon waved her over, and they exited the library hand in hand, leaving Sansa with a considerable amount of information to process and more confused than ever before.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Sansa. She made a point to try to be open-minded. She talked with her therapist – twice. Thank goodness for remote appointments. While the woman assured Sansa that what she was feeling was normal, and that grief ebbed and flowed, she forced Sansa to confront what she wanted in this life.

"Sansa, we've talked about this. We worked hard to move past your guilt about leaving the Eyrie and what Ben would want for you. Do you want to be happy?"

Before Sansa could snarl something back, the woman's gentle but firm voice interrupted her.

"Not today, perhaps. Or tomorrow. But someday."

Sansa sucked in a deep breath. And forced herself to think. She didn't know if it was possible for her to be happy.

But did she want it?

"Yes." She sniffed. Then stronger. "Yes. Someday. I do want to be happy."

"Sansa, you took a huge step going to Skene. You uprooted your entire life. You're alone – truly alone for the first time in your life. And this journey isn't going to be easy. You know this. But I promise you, if you do the hard work, it'll be worth it."

That had settled something in Sansa, although she still felt raw and vulnerable. And slightly embarrassed.

So she avoided a lot of the women from the book club because she wasn't ready to say sorry and she wasn't quite sure what to feel about Jaime. Logically she knew she was doing some transference with her grief and the entire messy ball of emotion when it came to Harry, her marriage and her son.

But she still wasn't ready to declare Jaime a 'good guy.' The anger was still there, and she wasn't prepared to let go of it.

Brienne made a point of coming into the library every few days, and Pod always made sure that he was around when she closed up at night. She appreciated it, even if she couldn't express herself.

She ran into Jaime one day in Ygritte's little grocery store. Already in a bad mood, since she didn't like the red-headed women, Sansa froze when she saw Jaime. Before she could say anything, his face shut down, and then he turned abruptly and left the store. Ygritte glared at her as she angrily bagged Sansa's groceries.

"Do you have something to say to me?" Sansa felt it was long past time she had it out with Ygritte.

Ygritte snorted and jerked a thumb to where Jaime was walking away in the dark. His shoulders were hunched over, and he looked so alone.

"He's a good man. Too good for a woman like you," Ygritte snapped, her eyes flashing. "Like you've never messed up."

Shocked at the fury that Sansa saw in the woman's eyes, and she hurried from the little store.

Was she such a monster?

How was it that Jaime was so loved, even with his sins so well known?

She was the grieving mother – she was the cheated-on spouse. She was the one who deserved sympathy.

A little voice whispered to her – _but they don’t know that. You won’t let them in._

She squished that voice.

These people just didn't understand her and even trying, perhaps her grief had dug her to a deep hole for her to crawl out of, convinced it was too late for her here on Skene to make up for all the damage she’d done. She’d finish out the last ten months, since it was the end of February and then figure out her life. Perhaps in her next ‘new’ start, she wouldn’t mess things up so badly. 

* * *

_ Pub Night – Jaime  _

Jaime spent the past seven weeks since book club debacle studiously avoiding Sansa Stark and trying to not let her snap judgment of him make him feel like an unlovable piece of shit. He had no idea why her absolute conviction that he was a dirtbag mattered so much to him, but it did.

She’d awoken many, many old feelings that Jaime had thought he’d dealt with. Feelings of being unworthy and unlovable. Thank god for his friends, who somehow were able to support him and not make Sansa feel like an outcast.

When he’d calmed down, Jaime had pleaded with Brienne and Pod to help Sansa. It wasn’t her fault that he was here and she deserved to know how good Skene could be.

He’d dropped by Val and Jon’s place and heard all about how Sansa had snapped on Val and how she’d understood that Sansa was hurting. Even though Val backed the other women off, Jaime could see that they still cared about Sansa, and worried about her.

While it would have been easy to accidentally run into Sansa while he made his way around Skene, he made a point of knowing where she was, and not being there. Jaime respected women and the last thing he wanted to do was put her in a position where she felt cornered.

He spent the last few weeks thinking about his affair with Cersei and wondering why he’d settled. It was true that his father had never been the same after Jaime’s Mom died, but Jaime had always grown up knowing how much Tywin loved Joanna.

Addam had married a woman he loved and had a nice, normal life.

Why had Jaime been unable to break away from Cersei?

It was something that haunted him and not an easily answerable question. He found himself speaking to Buttercup on several occasions about the entire thing, but she hardly had any answers for him.

Now as he trudged through the dark night, the wind howling, he hoped that he could get a good meal and a pint of beer before going home. He’d left his groceries in the cart after spotting Sansa and there was nothing there for him to make.

When he entered the pub, he saw there were only a few others – the night too miserable for most to venture out. As his eyes adjusted, the cop in him took in the now familiar faces, spotting Tormund, Brienne, Sandor, Pod and Wyn sharing a table. They waved him over, but not before Jaime saw a single figure, huddled over a book, alone in the corner.

His heart constricted.

Fuck.

She was so lonely, and not just because she was by herself. There was such pain in her, and Jaime, a protector, a man that wanted to make things right for people, longed to help her. Not even as a man that found her attractive, but just as a friend.

Sansa didn’t even look up, as his gaze lingered on her. The was such blatant want there, that none of Jaime’s friends missed it, and Brienne gave them all a pointed look.

For two months she’d watched them avoid one another while knowing that what they really needed was to be locked in a room together with nothing but each other and time to work this out.

Jaime had messed up with Cersei. But Jaime was not a ‘bad’ guy.

Sansa had a major trauma but had moved here for a fresh start, and when she thought no one was looking, looked at Jaime like most women looked at chocolate cake.

“See,” Brienne hissed before Jaime made his way over.

Tormund, Pod and Sandor all nodded. Even Bronn heaved out a weary sigh.

“You’re right lass, but what can we do?”

A grin, not evil, but calculating, split Brienne’s face.

“Well, I have a plan,” was all she could say before Jaime joined them.

No one missed how Jaime positioned himself so he could keep an eye on Sansa.

An hour later, half his meal finished, Sansa rose and went to leave. She struggled to pull on her coat, and then let her eyes drift to their group. There was such longing there, to be part of it, to be part of them, that Jaime hesitated only a moment before he followed her outside.

He caught up to her as she was at the top of the steps.

“Sansa, wait,” he said, voice urgent.

She paused and then, as if contemplating whether it was worth it to speak to him, turned.

“What?”

Gods, there was such rage there. Hurt and anger and grief. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to slay dragons for her.  
  
Fuck.

Frustrated that she was looking at him like he was scum, Jaime ran a hand through his hair.

“Look, I know you hate me, and perhaps you have a reason to,” he began and she scoffed.

Ok, so this wasn’t starting out well.

“But, Skene is small. Surely we can be friends?” he asked a hopeful note in his voice.

“Friends? You want to be friends?” She looked incredulous.

He nodded and thought that maybe she might give in. Then her face closed down.

“Tell me, Jaime, how do I be ‘friends’ with a man like you?”

He swallowed hard, hating himself and the choices he’d made. Choices that had her looking at him like that. 

“How do I be friends with you, when every time I look at you, see you smile, see this life you built, I’m reminded of my own husband, that couldn’t uphold his vows to me. How is it a man like you gets to be happy, and I get nothing?”

She gave a bitter laugh and he knew he’d lost her then. Resigned, he let her angry words wash over him.

“Tell me, did you ever stop to think about what you were doing before you fucked her? Kept fucking her? Did you even think about the fact that she swore to respect, love and honour another man? Or did that not matter to you? After all, you’re a Lannister. The rules don’t apply to men like you do they?”

She held his gaze and for once, anger blazed up into Jaime. She had judged him, like so many others. And maybe he deserved that. But he’d worked hard to atone for his mistakes.

He stepped up so that they were eye level. He could see her heartbeat fluttering in her neck, her pupils dilated. And he knew that she wasn’t quite as immune to him as she’d like to pretend.

“Maybe I am scum to you, and maybe we’ll never be friends. Maybe I do deserve all your hate.”

Jaime paused. Gods, he wanted to kiss her. He saw the desire there in her eyes. For him. He leaned in closer.

“You can lie to yourself and lie to all of them as much as you want Sansa, but there is something here – between us.”

She scoffed and tried to back away. He reached out and held her arm, gently, but still – he was touching her. She burned through him and Jaime knew this woman was meant to be in his life.

“Hate. Disgust.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Desire,” he countered.

“Hardly.”

He chuckled darkly. 

“It seems you like a little dirty in your man.”

She reared back and he knew she’d be thinking of his words and how much she did want him.

“Maybe.” Then she shrugged, feigning indifference. “But even if I did it would never be you. It would never be a man like you.”

Jaime leaned in, chuckled softly in her ear and felt her breath hitch. His breath graced over her ear. 

“Oh Sansa darling, don’t you know? There are no men like me.”

Then he stepped back, dropping her arm and gave her a mock salute before he hurried off into the night, pleased with how the night had ended.

Perhaps he’d been a bastard, but she wanted him. Oh, she didn’t want to want him, seemed to hate herself for it. But it was there. He’d seen it. And he wasn’t giving up on her. Sansa Stark was about to discover that when Jaime Lannister wanted something, nothing would stand in his way. Not even Sansa herself. 

* * *


	7. Sansa begins to heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa begins to heal, as the islanders meddle and the winter storm approaches

* * *

_ [Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/620598519831674880/love-love-love-love-this-story-has-my-whole-heart) _

_ [Picset by Birdebee](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/620159002064617472/you-guys-look-at-this-picset) _

* * *

_ The Plan _

For two months now, Brienne had stood by and watched as Jaime and Sansa had danced around each other. She'd seen the excitement in Jaime's face when she'd first arrived, and Brienne hadn't missed how Sansa had always blushed when she'd been by Jaime.

But then they, the women of Skene, had gone and opened their mouths at book club, and that had set everything back. From what Brienne could tell, the biggest issue was the fact that neither Jaime nor Sansa ever ended up in a situation that forced them to talk – to each other. Their ‘relationship’ was ripe with misunderstandings and no chance to fix said misunderstandings.

Brienne sympathized with Sansa – she really did.

The woman had been through hell and back again.

By now, their private friendship group had mostly surmised that Sansa had lost a child and a husband. It was a harsh blow for anyone, let alone the woman that Brienne was coming to realize was sweet and intelligent under all that hurt and grief.

Brienne caught glimpses over the past few months of who Sansa Stark must have been before tragedy marred her life. And Brienne liked the glimpses that she'd gotten of Sansa before life had beaten her down. Brienne would bet money that Sansa was loyal to a fault, funny, witty and kind. She’d just taken many blows these past few years and that was enough to turn anyone bitter.

Sansa had taken to meeting old Aemon in the library every Wednesday afternoon. She always had tea and cookies for him and made sure Jon was there to take him home. More than once, Aemon had commented on what a lovely young woman that Sansa was.

Brienne knew that Tormund's daughters adored Sansa – especially Nora. Tormund's eldest was whip-smart, and having Sansa on the island had only fuelled the girl's interest in learning. Sansa was never too busy for any of them, and they spent each afternoon with Sansa, puttering around the library and museum.

Many nights Brienne had to listen to Tormund wax on how wonderful the lion would be with his fire goddess. If the man hadn't been madly in love with her, Brienne would have worried about his seeming obsession with Jaime and Sansa.

"I just want them to be happy, my Valkyrie," he said to Brienne before he'd rubbed his beard against her neck and made her forget all about their sad, lonely friends.

Now, Brienne watched Jaime hurry out of the pub after Sansa, and she knew the time to act was upon them. With both of them gone from the pub, Brienne pulled out her phone and got Val and Jon on the line. Then she opened her weather app.

"They're tracking a storm that's set to hit the island," she said to their group, without preamble.

It was the end of February, and everyone knew that these things could hit well into March.

"When?" Sandor asked, catching on to Brienne's plan, but not sure if he liked it or not.

Brienne could hardly stand the farmer, but he and Jaime were friends, and he seemed to have a way with Sansa. Sansa was the least snarky to him, go figure.

"A few days from now. They are saying we might even get snow."

That made the others sit up and take notice. People like Tormund and Val, whom had been born and raised on the island, spoke of the rare occasions when Skene did get snow. It shut the whole place down, often for days at a time. A storm like this was not to be taken lightly.

Pod had a worried look on his face.

"So, what's the plan? If we get snow, we'll need Jaime at the station."

Brienne shook her head.

"No, we won't. We can handle whatever calls that come in. We'll make it so that something malfunctions at Sansa's place, and he'd be the only one around to help her. Then, when the storm gets bad, he'll be forced to stay."

Sandor snorted.

Brienne gave him a hard glare.

"What?" he grunted.

"Could you do something to her water line?" Brienne asked, a bit uncomfortable with her plan. She didn’t like sabotage, but the storm was the perfect opportunity to force Jaime and Sansa to talk.

Sandor looked at her like she'd grown a second head.

"You want me to wreck her water line in the middle of a fuckin' storm that by all accounts is going to be bad? Are you fucking mad, woman?"

Tormund gave Sandor a hard look and a grunt.

"So, what's your plan, dog?"

He had moved fractionally closer to Brienne, and Sandor rolled his eyes at how obvious he was. He defended Brienne like she was some blushing damsel and not a competent policewoman in her own right, fully capable of taking care of herself.

Sandor supposed that's what relationships were about, even though he'd never been in one. Just one of the many reasons Sandor hadn't made a move to ask Jeyne out. He had no clue how these things worked.

"There's a small creek that runs to Sansa's cottage," Sandor said and saw Tormund grin.

The man wiggled his eyebrows at Pod, who was looking decidedly nervous.

"If we could … disable it in some way, they might be trapped for a day or two. Is that enough?"

Brienne nodded and said, "Yes. I just want them to have time with one another – to talk this misunderstanding out."

Sandor scrubbed a hand down his face, a massive part of him wondering why the fuck he was participating in something like this. If Jaime ever found out, the golden lion would kill them all as well he should. Jaime had told them to back off. But Sandor had also seen how miserable the little bird was, and she always seemed to be darting looks Jaime’s way. Perhaps Brienne had a point.

"But, before we do anything, Brienne, you have to have Sansa stock her cottage all proper like. I won't take out a fucking culvert and risk them being truly trapped if she doesn't have enough supplies. Water, fuel, food." Sandor’s voice brooked no argument.

"We can do that," Pod piped up, looking at Wyn.

"Yup. We'll make it seem like we're just being neighbourly looking out for her and her first big storm."

"Are we sure about this?" came Jon's voice. Everyone could hear the doubt.

"I mean, she said she wanted space – from Jaime. And honestly, the woman has been through hell. Should we even meddle?"

"Jaime won't hurt her, Jon," Brienne said, confidently.

"I think they need to talk – even just to clear the air, sweetie. I've watched Sansa watch Jaime. I don't think she's really that mad at _him_ , but probably projecting a lot of her hurt from her husband onto him,” Val chimed in. She’d already forgiven Sansa and her blow out at her. Now she just wanted to help.

Both Jon and Sandor sighed heavily as if they weren't sure, but in the end, they were outvoted by those around the table, and on the phone.

"Besides, I'll make sure Jaime has a radio. If he really needs help, we can rescue them."

Sandor wondered how smart people could be so stupid sometimes but said nothing more. He'd given his advice and now had his role to play. If things went sideways, he was close by, and he had a back way into Sansa's property. They weren't really going to be trapped – they’d just think they were.

As he drove himself home that night, Sandor couldn't help but wonder if this was the dumbest thing he'd ever helped out with, or quite possibly the smartest. Either way, the storm was due in a few days, and they'd either chase Sansa from the island altogether or help her finally heal.

For her sake, Sandor hoped the little bird found some peace. He didn't think she was a person that wore grief well, nor that she deserved it. He'd have liked to see her before the world had made her its own personal punching bag, sure she'd have been spectacular. Even now, with her light dimmed, she was such a bright little thing.

He got back to his place, seeing her light on. A part of him wondered if he should go check on her. Maybe he could give her some words of comfort. He'd seen her sitting alone tonight at the pub, and he remembered all too often in his life being the outcast due to his size, his face, his snarly attitude.

But she'd been hunched over, and reading and Jaime had followed her out. Those two needed to work their shit out, and fast. Sandor half wondered if they just slept together if they wouldn't be better off, but what the fuck did he know.

In the end, very little when it came to relationships, which was why he'd take his cues from his friends, who did have significant others and go along with their plans.

If nothing else, it'd make this storm more interesting than any he could remember in a very long time.

* * *

_ Pre-Storm – Jaime  _

Jaime spent the night he'd confronted Sansa tossing and turning in his bed, sleep eluding him.

Why had he followed her? Why had he pushed her like that?

Gods, he was an asshole he thought, as he glanced at the clock.

3:13 am.

Fuck.

He was going to be utterly wrecked for work tomorrow, today… whatever. His brain was fuzzy. All he could see was that Sansa did want him – even if she didn't want to want him.

Still, he'd promised himself he'd give her space and then he'd practically accosted her in the stairs last night.

And for what?

To prove to a woman that clearly was dealing with some major trauma that she liked him?

Christ.

He was such a dickhead.

Jaime had always known he was a good looking guy – it was impossible to miss how he impacted women. But he'd always been careful with that attraction.

More than one of his fellow cops in King’s Landing had never understood why he hadn't had a steady stream of women in and out of his bedroom when he'd been young and single. He'd given up trying to explain he wasn't a man built that way. He was truly his father's son in that regard – a one-woman man that fell hard and fast when he’d thought he’d found the one.

Frustrated, he wondered if that was part of why he'd stayed with Cersei for so long.

Jaime had clung to the idea of finding his one true love and sticking by her through thick and thin. Admittedly when he'd been younger, he'd imagined that they'd have a healthy relationship. Dating. Wedding. Marriage. Kids.

Not that Jaime was making excuses for why he'd stayed with Cersei – he wasn't. But how did he explain to someone like Sansa, someone whose husband had cheated on her that he had loved Cersei and in his way, he was committed and invested in that relationship?

Gods, his life was a mess.

When he finally made his way into the station, a huge to-go cup of coffee from Mayra's café, he saw both Pod and Brienne were waiting for him. And by the looks on their faces, they had something on their minds.

"What?" he asked, a weariness to his voice that he didn't remember being there before.

Fuck it had been so long since a woman had messed him up like this, and worse since he didn't quite know where he stood with her. All Jaime knew was that it hurt his heart to see Sansa so alone.

"There is a winter storm coming in," Brienne said without preamble.

For a moment, Jaime wanted to say something snarky, as they lived on Skene and winter storms were part of life up here. But he held his tongue.

"When?" what he said instead.

"A few days. Podrick and I will go out to Sansa's cottage, to ensure she is prepared."

Jaime glanced at the calendar. _Wednesday, February 27th._

"Kind of late in the season, isn't it?"

Pod agreed.

"Yeah, it is. But it's a huge system, coming over from the Frost Fangs. They're saying we might even get snow."

Jaime could hear the genuine worry in Pod's voice and knew he'd spend the next few days helping island residents prepare.

"Have we put out an alert?" he asked them.

"Just waiting on your go-ahead, Chief."

"Do it."

With that, the three police officers on Skene were in motion. Even though the islanders liked to think of themselves as self-sufficient and able to handle anything that came up, all three of the cops knew it was their due diligence to make sure they were all warned and prepared.

It was a gruelling two days, and late on the afternoon of the second, even Jaime could see the weather was taking a decidedly worse turn.

Unlike when he'd done this his first year on the island, now Jaime knew everyone by name, and he had more than one casserole and baked item shoved in his hand to get him through the storm. He was touched by how much these people cared for him.

With only two more people to speak to, Jaime stopped by his apartment and put a kit together – just some extra clothes, a second pair of boots and some winter gear. He had Sandor and Mance, and then he'd be done.

Mance, who'd lightened up slightly when it came to Jaime after he’d found Lyanna, accepted a few of the baked goods and casseroles that Jaime had with him and assured him he'd ridden out worse storms.

"Might get snow," he'd grunted.

"Snow? Are you serious?" Jaime asked.

He'd heard the horror stories of what happened to the island when snow did come. They simply weren't equipped for it since they rarely had any to deal with.

"Yup. Be ready, lion."

With that, Mance closed the door on Jaime's face.

Before he left the lighthouse, Jaime took a moment to observe the angry sea. The waves were fearsome, with whitecaps, the wind howling, and the dark clouds on the horizon threatening rain and hail at the very least. Knowing he'd have to hurry to make it to Sandor's before the storm hit, Jaime radioed in his destination.

He heard crackling over the line and then finally, "Jaime, can you go to Sansa's. I haven't made it there yet."

Jaime stared incredulously at his radio, anger warring with disbelief at Brienne.

She hadn't bloody made it there yet? What in seven hells was Brienne thinking? Sansa should have been the FIRST stop on her list of people – not the last. She was new to the island, and this was her first significant winter storm.

Jaime growled, "Where's Pod?"

"He's on the other side of the island, getting old Aemon settled in. Jon had some work to do with the goats and asked if Pod could help."

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Jaime's stomach.

He knew that Sansa needed to be checked on – it was practically his main job in the winter months as the Chief of Police, and he'd be severely negligent in his duties were he not to do so.

But all he could see what her mistrust and anger at him.

"And where are you?"

"I'm with Dacey and Tormund. She's having trouble with her well."

Jaime gave a resigned sigh, knowing that a well was a critical piece of equipment when it came to staying alive – especially with a storm bearing down. If Brienne had Tormund with her, it meant the school was already closed, and things were coming to a head.

He could wait and hope that Pod or Brienne could make it to Sansa's in time. Or he could do his job, due to his duty and go and check on her.

"Does she have everything?"

"Pod got her stocked earlier this week. Might need help with the shutters and to be shown the generator," squawked Brienne's voice before she was cut off.

Knowing he had no other choice, the sky darkening at a truly alarming rate, Jaime turned his little side by side to where Sansa's cottage was. This would either be the shortest visit in the history of Skene or maybe Jaime would have a chance to show Sansa he wasn't such a bad guy.

Either way, with the storm on its way, he had couldn't say no, no matter how much he might be the last person she wanted to see. Sansa needed help, and he was the only one available for the job.

* * *

_ Pre Storm – Sansa _

Since her confrontation with Jaime a few days ago outside the pub, Sansa had been lost in her own head. And for once, it had nothing to do with grief or missing her son, or the shame she felt that she couldn't keep her marriage together.

Instead, Jaime seemed to have awoken something inside her.

Something profound, something primal, something she had denied for far too long.

In their eagerness to marry and then the unexpected pregnancy, Harry's devotion to his career, her rush to complete her master's degree, Sansa realized that it had been a very long time since she'd given much attention to herself as a woman.

Including her womanly needs. Her desires. Her dreams.

All of that had taken a back seat a long time ago in her life.

Not that she thought Jaime Lannister was the man to turn to when she was finally ready to step back into the dating game – she knew she'd never be able to trust someone with his reputation.

But he wasn't wrong in his assessment that there was an attraction there between them. It was undeniable.

Sansa had always prided herself on her critical thinking skills and rarely judged anyone until she got to know them.

But that was before her son had died and her husband betrayed her.

She knew she’d judged people here the moment she'd stepped foot on Skene – perhaps even before with everyone she met. She'd pushed almost everyone in her life away, determining that since they hadn't lost a child, they couldn't possibly relate to what she was going through, so they had no value.

It was only people like Arya and Yohn Royce that hadn’t completely given up on her, for why Sansa wasn’t completely alone.

Her time on Skene was leading to some uncomfortable epiphanies.

Like how wrong she had been about pushing everyone away. 

Sandor's words rang through her mind as she shelved returned books.

_Did she want to be alone?_

Her answer shocked her. And sent a bolt of both hope and fear through her heart.

No, she didn’t. 

Sansa was a social creature. While she was a homebody, who enjoyed puttering around her cottage, she did like to meet with friends, to go for lunch, to catch up with her friends.

She liked being part of a group. Had excelled at university and living with Marg and Ros. Enjoyed huge family events.

And she'd denied herself those small, simple pleasures for so long.

Deeply ashamed of how she'd treated Val but unsure how to make amends, Sansa wandered by Mayra's café the afternoon after the pub incident with Jaime.

She thought she might catch Val there, with her daughters, but instead saw Sandor with Lyanna and Ella.

She snickered a bit, watching a slightly panicked look come over the big man's face when Ella pounded a chubby fist on the table. He appeared to be babysitting.

Slipping inside, Sansa gave a tentative smile to Mayra, wondering if the older woman would reject her overture. Or would she see it as Sansa trying?

Because, gods, she was trying. Even if it seemed like nothing to someone else. Such small things took a monumental effort for her.

Thankfully Mayra smiled back and warmly asked what she could make Sansa.

"Oh, a latte, I guess. I was just going to sit with Sandor."

"You go on, dear, and I'll bring it right over."

Unaccustomed to having her lousy behaviour so easily forgiven, Sansa slid in next to Lyanna, whose eyes had lit when she saw Sansa.

"Are you joining us? Uncle Sandy is watching us while Daddy takes Mommy on a date," Lyanna informed Sansa.

Sansa laughed as her eyes darted to Sandor's.

"May I?"

He waved a big hand for her to take a seat.

"They aren't on a date, Lya. They went to Skagos for supplies," Sandor explained as the little girl shrugged, uncaring her information was wrong. She snuggled up close to Sansa, even though her fingers were sticky with icing from her treat.

"Tell us a story," she demanded, putting Sansa on the spot.

Sansa arched an eyebrow the little girl, using her _'mom'_ look, just as Mayra appeared, ready to scold her. Sansa sent Mayra a look that said she’d handle Lyanna’s demand _._

"Is that how we ask politely?" Sansa questioned her.

Lyanna had the grace to look chagrined and shook her head.

"No. Please can you tell us a story, Aunty Sansa."

Sansa, Sandor and Mayra paused, the older woman wiping away tears. Mayra saw Sansa freeze at Lyanna’s address and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, then squeezed.

"Children can heal us if we let them," she whispered, and Sansa swallowed down the lump that felt like a golf ball in her throat.

_Wow._

_She was now Aunty Sansa._

That seemed to signal Lyanna's acceptance of her as one of the islanders. Deeply touched, Sansa shook herself and then thought.

"Hmmm, you're almost old enough for the story I'm thinking about … but I'm not quite sure…."

Lyanna was practically bouncing. "Oh, I am ready, Aunty Sansa. I am!" she demanded.

Sansa laughed as Lyanna crawled on her lap and then told her a story about a knight that wasn't a knight, who was a fierce protector of those who needed it but was often shunned because he looked funny.

"Subtle," Sandor muttered to Sansa, who grinned at him.

It ended with the knight slaying a bad dragon and marrying a woman that he fell in love with when he finally went home.

By now, it was well into late afternoon, and Sandor said he had to get the girls home. As Sansa helped him get them dressed in their coats, she realized that this didn't hurt nearly as much as she had feared, trying with these people.

She'd seen Dacey come in for coffee. The woman had given her a quick nod and a little smile, but nothing more.

As Sansa stood and watched Sandor lumber off with the two little girls, Mayra was there again, by her side. 

Both women turned to the other and blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Embarrassed, Sansa held up a hand. "No. Please. Let me go first. My behaviour hasn't been the best. I have my reasons … but that's not an excuse."

Mayra, to her credit, didn't placate her.

"I won't say that some don't deserve your anger. Ygritte's been acting out, and we overstepped at book club. We did. But we aren't bad people on Skene. Perhaps a bit too nosy," Mayra's voice was filled with mirth, and Sansa found herself liking her.

"I know."

Sansa did. She'd seen how good everyone on the island was.

“So try not to push us away too much my dear,” Mayra said as she bustled back into her little restaurant.

Sansa realized her issue now was mostly with Jaime. Even seeing that Jaime was good and kind and helpful, she just couldn't separate Jaime from Harry.

And that was _her_ issue. She got that.

She also seemed to be attracted to men that cheated.

Where did that leave her?

She was a woman that believed in romance, soul mates, in happy ever after.

Not in men that would leave a woman broken-hearted. Sansa didn’t seek out ‘broken’ men to try and fix them. She’d always wanted the fairy tale, the golden prince, the perfect man.

She didn't say that to Mayra, of course. Didn't even mention Jaime's name. She knew her issues with Jaime were hers and hers alone to work out.

This sojourn into the café had been the first step, and while it felt good, Sansa still felt she was on boggy ground. She knew from experience that sometimes her emotions got the best of her. The anger wasn't gone – not by a long shot, only banked or tempered.

Sansa knew it would take time and hard work to be a well-adjusted, happy person again.

But oh gods, did she want this. This little slice of normal had been a balm to her weary soul.

"Thank you for the latte," she called out before she left the café.

Mayra told her she was welcome any time, and strangely enough, Sansa believed it.

Sansa was meeting Brienne to prep for the winter storm that was a few days away and knew if she were late, Brienne would complain. Personally, Sansa didn't understand the big deal. She was from the North. She'd dealt with plenty of storms, but the islanders seemed worried, so she went along with it and their worry and preparations.

Pulling her hat on her head, Sansa gave herself credit for trying today and wondered if this was the beginning of a new start on Skene.

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Sansa  _

Sansa glanced at her watch as the clouds darkened the sky, and the wind picked up.

Perhaps she'd been a bit hasty when she'd said she wasn't worried about the storm. When she'd been at home, in her parents' sprawling mansion called Winterfell, storms had been something to look forward to. They would cuddle up under blankets and drink hot chocolate and watch movies. Her family was around and Sansa had always trusted her father to keep them safe.

But here, on Skene? Sansa suddenly felt very alone, even though she could almost make out Sandor's farmhouse in the distance. Even as her closest neighbour, he wasn't at all 'close.'

Grateful that Brienne had insisted she fully stock her cottage, with water, food and fuel, Sansa was also thankful that the village understood the library was shut down for the next few days. It was Friday afternoon, and she usually only opened a few hours on Saturday, but maybe she could get some work done on her thesis during the storm if the power held. After all, what else would she do?

She'd managed several conversations with old Aemon and one with Mance. Both men had so much information on the lore and history of the island. Sansa hadn’t done much exploring, but she knew the island was home to many neolithic ruins that had served an important role in ancient rituals on the island. Her goal with her these interviews was to preserve some of the oral histories of the people of Skene.

A rumble of thunder had her up from her desk and glancing out the window to see the funny little vehicles the police drove on the island. Relieved that Brienne was here, Sansa hurried to put on a fresh pot of coffee and cut some lemon squares she'd made earlier. Her interaction with Mayra had given her the confidence to begin to try to repair some of the friendships on the island.

The knock-on her door had her calling out a "Come in!"

Sansa knew before she turned that it wasn't Brienne. The person had opened the door, so she could hear the howling wind but hadn't stepped inside.

Turning, she saw Jaime standing there, looking decidedly uncomfortable and uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he began before she could even think to say anything. “Brienne and Tormund are at Dacey’s place – her well isn't working. And Pod's helping Aemon."

He shuffled his feet, a bit uncomfortably, and for once, Sansa felt terrible for him. It was apparent that he was trying to keep his word and stay away. And he wouldn't even meet her eyes.

For a brief minute, a part of Sansa wanted to lash out and send him away. But then the thunder rumbled again, and she knew she would be both an idiot and acting childishly if she did that. Maybe she hated that she was attracted to this man, but that didn't mean she couldn't talk with him. Just because her body did a happy little dance whenever he was near, did not mean her brain or her heart had to follow suit.

The problem with Jaime was that she'd allowed her emotions to rule her instead of reverting to the Ice Queen routine that Harry often accused her of.

She could be professional.

Courteous.

Aloof.

Polite.

That was how she'd treat Jaime. That way, no one on the island could accuse her of being a bitch to him, and he wouldn't get any ideas that she wanted anything more from him than polite indifference.

Friends? Hardly.

But they could co-exist in the same space for short periods.

"Come in, Jaime," she said, the tone of her voice one she used for dealing with Harry's colleagues at the office.

"Are you sure? Brienne just wanted me to check on your shutters, your 72-hour emergency kit and the generator."

She nodded.

"Yes. Come in. I have a few things to say to you."

Sansa didn't miss the flash of hope on his handsome face. Gods, she so wished she was the type of woman that was brave enough to take a chance with a man like him. She wished she didn't treat relationships so seriously. She'd slept with one man in her life, and look how that ended.

Her life might be easier if she could just give in to this heat that flared between them.

What did they call it? Hate fucking?

Maybe not _that_ , but why couldn’t she be the type of woman to sleep with a man with no strings attached? Maybe that would have been easier for them – give into their attraction with no emotions.

After all, she wasn't staying. Skene wasn’t her home. She was almost thirty and Jaime nearing fifty. Surely they could be physical and nothing else? 

But that was not whom she was, and she just couldn't. The next man Sansa gave her body to, he'd have to have won her heart as well. And she wasn't sure that was entirely possible, given how shattered her heart currently was. That left her alone and with no hope for the future.

So, polite distance it was when it came to Jaime. That was all she could do, all she could offer.

He took off his boots and hung up his police issued jacket and then stepped into her kitchen. His eyes roamed the cottage, and she wondered if he saw all the little things she'd added.

Sansa couldn't help it – she was a nester, and she'd done it to Benny's hospital room. There were little rocks she’d collected, pots of flowers and old milk bottles. She liked odd, pretty things and liked seeing them displayed wherever she lived.

Even though very few people had been through the cottage, she'd kept pictures of Ben upstairs in her bedroom. She still wasn't ready to share her son with anyone.

"Please, have a seat. I just made coffee. Would you like a cup?"

Jaime appeared startled and stumbled out a yes.

"How do you take it?"

"Cream, please," was all he said.

As she poured, she caught him out of the corner of her eye, and aware she had an unobstructed view of him, observed him. He appeared worried and nervous, and she wondered if that was more about the storm or being here with her.

She thought perhaps she should extend the olive branch to him and then remember his comment about her liking a 'dirty man' and stiffening her spine.

When she set the cup down, she took a seat across from him. Before he could speak, she did.

"I won't apologize for how I feel about you – I have my reasons. I will say that Skene is small, and these people seem to be good. I don't want you to have to leave a store, or the pub, if I'm there. I can't be your friend, Jaime. But we can be polite to one another. That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

She saw his shoulders roll as if he wanted to argue, to defend who he was. But she was in no mood to hear it.

Perhaps that made her the bitch she felt she was, she didn't much care. There was only so much she could do, so many things she was willing to compromise on, so many concessions she could make.

Somehow Sansa knew that if she were to let a man like Jaime Lannister into her life, he'd upend it completely. And she wasn't prepared for that.

Sansa was able to function if things remained orderly and in neat little boxes.

Jaime was the type of man that smashed those boxes to smitheries.

So she glared at him until she saw him nod.

"Alight," was all he said.

Sansa knew she was asking too much from him and that it wasn’t fair. He was bearing the brunt of her distrust towards men that broke their vows, but his one-word answer allowed her to relax slightly.

"Thank you," she told him, ice queen voice firmly in place.

He sipped his coffee before rising.

"I'll just check your shutters and then your emergency kit. Did Brienne show you how to use the generator?"

Sansa nodded.

"She did, but if you could go over it once more, I'd appreciate it."

It took Jaime half an hour to make sure her cottage was boarded correctly, by which time he was soaked as the rain and wind had picked up. Sansa had her kit out, and he glanced through it, noting she had the proper supplies and then some. She was well stocked to ride out the storm.

"Ok, gear up, and we'll check the generator," he told her.

He showed her the little switch to flip if the power went out before they exited the cottage. The entire thing was wired to run on the backup power, as were most places on Skene.

Before they could leave, there was an enormous crack of thunder, and then the lights flickered and died.

"Not a moment too soon," Jaime muttered, and they hurried to the little shed where the generator was.

A quick overview of the engine and a check at the fuel level and Jaime was satisfied. He told her she'd have to refill it every six hours, and that power cuts generally lasted the entire storm. His final task was to haul in three massive loads of peat for her fireplaces.

"It's just easier," he said.

By the time he was done, night had indeed fallen, and the storm had picked up in its intensity. The entire cottage rattled, and for once, Sansa was grateful that Jaime was there.

"Now, let's just make sure everything is working with the generator running," he told her, checking the stove, the oven, the fridge, and the hot water tank. When he was pleased to see things in working order, he went to the door, to pull back on his boots.

Standing there, he handed her a radio.

"Most of the islanders have one. Pod, Brienne and I bunk at the station, so if you need us, just radio the station."

Deeply touched by how thorough and how professional Jaime had been, Sansa said a sincere, "Thank you."

He gave her one of those smiles, that despite her best intentions, had her heart doing a slow roll and said, "It's my job."

For a second, Sansa thought she had a glimpse of the 'real' Jaime – a man that took his duty seriously.

Then another howl of wind had him reaching for the door, just as the radio crackled to life.

_Jaime, come in. Jaime, are you there?_

He took the radio from Sansa's hand, frowning at the urgency in Brienne's voice.

"I'm here. I just finished at Sansa's. What do you need?"

_Are you still there?_

"Yes."

Sansa got a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

_Shit. Jaime, we just heard from Sandor. The little bridge going to Sansa's place is underwater. The culvert failed. And the other road, the one that goes out by the sea, is impassable. Pod barely made it back._

Sansa saw Jaime's face go white as he clutched at the radio. He wouldn't even look at her.

"What are you saying, Brienne?"

_I'm sorry … ime._

The service was getting worse as the radio cut in and out.

_You'll have to hunker down there, at least for tonight. Maybe if the storm blows out, we'll be able to get you out of there in the morning._

Jaime's jaw clenched, and a muscle ticked. His green eyes crashed into hers, and Sansa knew there was nothing else to be done. Jaime Lannister was stuck here, at her cottage for at least tonight. She might have issues with the man, but she wouldn't send him to his death in this storm.

"It's ok," she told him softly. "The sofa pulls out and makes what I'm sure is an uncomfortable bed. And I have food."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and then the radio crackled again.

_Jaime?_

He sighed.

"Yeah, Brienne. I'm here. Sansa said I could stay. I want an update first thing in the morning."

With that, he handed the radio back to Sansa.

"Put it on its charger. I have a few things in the truck. Just some food and extra clothing in case I get stuck. I'll go get it."

"That's fine," she said, hardly recognizing her voice.

She knew Jaime had nothing to do with these turn of events, but now, they were going to be stuck with each other. And even though Brienne said it might only be one night, deep in her heart, Sansa knew it would be a few days at least.

It was as if the gods had conspired to pull them together, and she wondered if she were strong enough to hold out.

Jaime Lannister would bring nothing but chaos to her life – perhaps the best possible kind, but that was no longer something that Sansa could trust.

Chaos meant disorder and she couldn’t function like that.

She couldn’t trust that good things happened to her.

And she couldn’t believe that Jaime was meant for her.

It was better if she were alone, if she pushed down the dreams and hopes and wishes she'd had as a young woman before life had taken its anger and fury out on her.

And yet, as Jaime came back inside, a bag in his hand, juggling several casseroles, Sansa wondered if even she was strong enough to hold out against such forces.

Did he have to look so handsome?

Be so devastatingly attractive?

And he could be gentle – she’d seen it with more than one person in the village.

Aside from his ugly years long affair, Jaime seemed to be the type of man Sansa had always wanted.

It was why she had to be strong and why she had to build her walls up, and not let Jaime Lannister knock them down. Under no circumstances, could Sansa let Jaime into her life emotionally, because she knew if she let Jaime in, and he broke her, she wasn't sure she'd ever recover.

She'd fought too hard to survive Ben's death and Harry's cheating and her divorce to crumble now.

"Hunny, I'm home," Jaime said with a small, soft, teasing smile.

Sansa knew he was trying to make this easier for her. He wasn’t an idiot – he had to know the last person she’d want in her cottage was him during a storm.

Still, her breath stopped as her heart beat wildly at his words.

Gods, three little words that summed up everything Sansa had ever wanted, and everything that had been taken from her.

A man that loved her.

A family that she could dote on.

Heathy children that didn’t even know what the word cancer was.

A home.

Then Jaime put his bag down and Sansa wondered if she were already lost and what the fates had in store for the two of them. Would they survive their first winter storm on Skene, together? And how they might emerge on the other side.

* * *


	8. Night One of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night 1 of the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that this story has a high level of angst – that some of you are mad at Sansa. I can understand that. I’m not excusing her behaviour because of grief. I’m not.
> 
> Both Jaime and Sansa have this ability to love so deeply, and they really go all in for those they love.
> 
> With that in mind, I want to reassure EVERYONE that when Sansa chooses Jaime, finally commits, she is ALL in for him – in a way that no one has ever been. So the rainbow IS coming. We just have some big stuff to work through.
> 
> So there is more angst and more slow burn. And misunderstandings. But we are starting to turn a corner in this story. We are.
> 
> I really hope you’ll stick with me and with Sansa. Because I absolutely 100% promise the romance, their love will be worth it.

* * *

  
[Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621767024773824512/show-chapter-archive)

* * *

_ Sandor: The Bridge _

"Bloody fucking hell," Sandor cursed as he stared down at the little bridge that crossed the creek into Sansa's property. A creek that was now a raging river and had nothing to do with him, his plans, or the wishes of the residents of Skene. Jaime and Sansa were well and truly cut off from the rest of the island since Sandor knew for a fact that the road that skirted along the ocean was impassable.

He grabbed his radio and called in it.

"WHAT?" Brienne screeched.

Gods, how did Tormund put up with that woman, Sandor thought to himself.

"The bridge to Sansa's place is washed out – NOT that I had a thing to do with. Nature. When you try to fuck with it, it fucks you right back," he muttered.

"Oh my god," Brienne moaned.

Sandor had heard her and Tormund were out at Dacey's place helping her with her well, and Pod had taken the trip to Aemon's cottage to check on the old guy.

This meant, even without their intervention, Jaime and Sansa were stuck together through nothing more than bad luck.

In many ways, it was good that Jaime was at Sansa's. Sandor hated to think about how scared she might be if she were alone. The little bird might hate Jaime (although Sandor thought she really didn't) but riding out your first storm on Skene without company? That was brutal. It was better that she had someone with her, even if she'd been shooting daggers at the golden lion for weeks.

Cursing again, and kicking at a clump of mud, Sandor heard Buttercup bleating softly as she gazed towards Sansa's cottage. How the sheep knew that Jaime was there was anyone's guess, but she did. Sandor was sure of it.

"Nothing to be done," he told her, wondering when he'd started thinking it was ok to talk to a sheep. The wind was whipping something fierce, the clouds darker than ever, and now thunder and lightning had joined the impressive display.

Sandor knew that Sansa had enough supplies for both her and Jaime to ride the storm out, and he had to secure his own animals. Knowing there was nothing more he could do, the big man turned and made his way home, praying that this never got out and that Jaime and Sansa didn't kill each other when the storm finally passed.

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Evening of Day 1: Jaime  _

Jaime thought about some of the genuinely uncomfortable situations he'd been in throughout his twenty-five-year career as a police officer. And not one of them compared to have to spend the next day or two with Sansa in her tiny cottage.

Resigned, Jaime focused on getting his kit from his vehicle, along with several pounds of food the island residents had loaded him down with and walking back inside.

With Sansa.

Trapped.

Fuck.

After his little outburst the other day, Jaime hadn't expected her to be so nice. Oh, she probably thought she was being reserved and polite, but he knew that she was dealing with some big things from the breakup of her marriage. Before he'd known he was going to be bunking down here, her little speech had given him a bit of hope that they could co-exist together without making everyone's lives miserable.

Jaime knew he was still much too fascinated with her for his own good. She had clear warnings signs up, telling him to stay back.

Not only that but unlike Cersei, she'd had the decency to speak to him. To him. Face to face. He appreciated that. He didn't agree with her assessment of him or her conclusion that they couldn't be friends or that she didn't know his reasons for the affair, but he had to give her credit for sheer will talking directly to him.

Now the hard part was going to be to keep his distance – not physically since Jaime had never been a man to force himself upon a woman in his entire life.

In fact, Jaime hadn't been with that many women, when he took into consideration his age and the fact that he'd never been married. And that he was rich, handsome and a pretty nice guy.

He could count the number of women he'd slept with one hand.

Five.

Jaime Lannister had slept with five women in his entire life, one of whom had done her best to destroy him utterly.

And was still destroying him, if Sansa's opinion of him was anything to go by. Cersei seemed to be the nightmare that kept on giving. Not that he could blame anyone but himself. He'd known what she was, and he'd loved her anyways.

Shockingly, in the aftermath of their affair's exposure, Jaime had never stopped to consider what dating might be like, post-Cersei, when more than half of Westeros just thought he was a total asshat.

The first year he was too angry even to consider dating.

The second-year, he'd been numb.

And by year three, he was on Skene.

Which brought him to this moment as he opened the door to the cabin and stepped back inside. And to a woman that fascinated him far too much for his own good.

"Hunny, I'm home," he said softly, trying to defuse the situation.

He recalled his training on hostage negotiating, a mandatory course all detectives took, just in case. Now, he was applying it to Sansa. Jaime knew he was not wanted – definitely not in her space, in her home, and perhaps not even on the island.

But they were stuck with each other, and the gods only knew for how long. He was attempting to make the best of a bad situation, for Sansa.

For him?

Well, yeah, it hurt, to see her, to be so close to her, to know she thought so little of him.

But she was still Sansa, and he was intrigued. Perhaps that was his lot in life – to be attracted to women that would hurt him.

 _If so, that sucked,_ Jaime thought. Although, Sansa didn’t seem to take pleasure in hurting people, not like Cersei had.

Sansa didn't say anything as he entered her cottage, but Jaime saw her eyes widen, and for a brief moment, there was a flash of longing there. Wondering what that was about, wishing he had any type of grounds to attempt to get to know Sansa better, including her wishes and her dreams, he pushed aside his own wants.

This wasn't about him. It was about her and making her comfortable.

He was in her cottage, her space. She'd made her opinion of him well known. Jaime knew he had to make himself as unobtrusive as possible and just hunker down and ride out this storm.

This wasn't some cosmic event, where the gods had taken this chance to throw them together – to have them magically work out their issues.

Jaime, analytical by nature, was trying to determine if the island residents had anything to do with this little tête a tête. There would be hell to pay if they did, he knew that for sure. This all seemed a bit too convenient if you asked him, which no one did.

Sansa hadn't said much to him, so Jaime kept his mouth shut and thoughts to himself. There would be time enough to work out how he’d ended up out here, alone with Sansa in the storm.

For now, Jaime dropped his bag, toed off his boots and wandered towards the kitchen, placing the food down on an empty counter. He liked Sansa's cottage, and the homey feel to it. She had baked recently if the smell of sugar and sweet in the air was anything to go by.

As he arranged the prepared dishes, another colossal rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Then, as if the heavens themselves were punishing Skene, the clouds opened up, and the rain began in earnest.

Jaime knew from experience this was no soft, summer rain. No romantic rain that two lovers might get caught in, and then dance in each other's arms, willing to get soaked through to prolong the moment.

No, this rain would be cold, hard, stinging. And if they were lucky, it would stay rain and not turn to snow. That would be a nightmare – especially if he was trapped out here, unable to help.

Grateful they'd filled the generator, so they had working appliances and lights, Jaime gestured to the food.

"At least we'll eat well."

Sansa, who had been standing in the little entrance way that went to the living room, gave a little sigh and a nod. Her eyes had been on him the entire time – not that Jaime could blame her. He got the impression Sansa was more about actions than words.

"I suppose I owe you the tour."

She sounded resigned, and for a brief moment, Jaime wondered if he should offer to go and sleep in his side by side. It would be uncomfortable as hell, cold and he might freeze to death, but surely it would be less awkward than the tension building in the cottage.

_Gods, he was a mess._

_How was he supposed to do this? And why in seven hells was the only woman he was interested in since freaking Cersei, one that utterly despised him?_

Usually, he was a decent conversationalist. He'd talked more than one 'bad guy' down in King's Landing using charm, wit, and smile. He knew how to make people feel at ease, and he was great in a crowd.

Just because Jaime hadn't chosen the socialite life himself, didn't mean he wasn't good at it. People genuinely liked him, and he'd never had a problem making conversation before. With anyone. Ever.

Hell, Jaime had had longer conversations with drug dealers he'd arrested in Flea Bottom and decidedly less uncomfortable than he felt with Sansa. 

But what was there to say to her?

_I'm not the awful man you think I am?_

_I had my reasons, weak as they were?_

_I know your husband was a scumbag, but I'm not?_

Were any of those statements even true?

Honestly, he didn't know.

Maybe he was a villain, a bad man, a man who didn't deserve love. Maybe he needed to accept that. Maybe his past actions were too awful for any decent woman to forgive.

With a weariness Jaime didn't know he possessed, he picked up his bag and followed her into the main living space.

"I think you'll be fine here. There is a full bathroom on the main floor, and as I said, the sofa folds out into a bed. There are some lamps and some books."

Her voice trailed off, and she gave a slightly helpless shrug as if she too were at a loss for words.

"Thank you," Jaime said softly, making himself and his movements smaller.

Beyond the anger towards him, Jaime could see the pain in her eyes, and he knew that this was less about him and more about what had happened in her own life. Classic transference. Oh yeah, they also made them take some basic psych classes before becoming a detective.

So he knew.

He got it.

He was an easy target.

And that was fine. He’d take it.

Maybe he didn't deserve her fury, didn't deserve to be the poster boy for 'cheaters,' but he'd take whatever she dished out. Because deep down, Jaime knew he had screwed up with Cersei. No matter his reasons, it had been a giant mistake.

So he sat and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. With luck, this storm wouldn't be the monster they were all predicting, and Jaime would be able to leave in the morning, giving Sansa back her sanctuary.

He looked around the room, noting that she'd added her little touches. He'd have smiled if he'd thought it would have been welcome, but inside he was glad to see it.

She was trying, even if she was beating herself up about her progress.

Did she have any idea how brave that made her? She was here, on Skene, alone – trying.

Gods, he was intrigued by her.

"I'm not normally such a bitch," she blurted out.

Jaime, who'd been lost in his observations, turned his head and saw her blush, deep red. She was fiddling with a button on the soft, light violet cardigan she was wearing. He realized he liked that colour on her. It was feminine and classic and enhanced her natural beauty. Her long hair was braided in a tail down her back, and her eyes bright.

She was stunningly beautiful for the simplicity and grace she possessed, and his breath hitched as he drank her in. He realized in that moment that she might be his ideal woman and he didn’t stand a chance with her.

As if realizing her hands had been fidgeting, she clasped them together, holding them tight against her stomach. It seemed to be a gesture she was used to making, and he wondered, again, what her story was.

He’d heard, of course, the rumours, the speculation. But rumours were different from _knowing_.

"I don't think you're a bitch, Sansa."

His voice, he hoped, was soothing, meant to put her at ease.

She gave a mirthless laugh and muttered, "I would."

Jaime knew he could push her right then.

This was a perfect opportunity for him to give her his story, to tell her he was nothing like her ex.

He knew she was slightly vulnerable, off-balance with having him here. He'd broken down harder men and women than her in an interrogation room.

He could most likely get her to agree that she'd been unfair and mean to him. He had the skills to pile the guilt on top of her, to make her feel even worse about her treatment of him.

But he didn't want that. Gods, he so did not want that.

What he wanted was for her to understand that he was a man who had made a terrible choice, a poor choice – a choice that had cost him everything.

He wanted her to come to him.

He wanted her to give him a chance.

But not through coercion. Never like that.

If Sansa ever wanted something more between them, it would have to come from her.

He would not put her in any position where she would feel bad later on. He would not add to her burden. He would not be a reason she felt more guilt.

Instead of defending himself or chastising her, he simply said, "I think you are a woman that has survived something horrible. And I think that you are incredible."

It was said plainly and truthfully because that's what the words were – the truth. Anyone could see it. She was a survivor.

Jaime saw her eyes widen, almost in panic as if he'd guessed her deep, dark secrets. He raised a hand in the universal gesture meant to reassure. He has his suspicions, but he would not give voice to those. Again, if she wanted to share, it had to be her that made the first move. He’d listen to her, but he’d never push her.

"Sansa, I do not know your story. Nor will I pry. That is not my place."

The relief on her face was telling and a part of Jaime ached, literally ached that she had no one to unburden herself to.

_How did a woman like her end up so alone?_

But that was not his role. His role was to ensure she was safe. That was all.

And he was resigned to the fact that she might never want anything more from him. She might never see him as more than just the scandal that was attached to his name. And if that was the case? Well, he had no one to blame but himself.

"Thank you for letting me stay here. I promise I will attempt to keep my presence here to a minimum and not interfere."

He saw her shoulders sag as the tension left her. As much as it might hurt him not to be able to defend himself, Jaime knew he'd made the right decision. Sansa wasn't ready to hear what he had to say.

He gave her what he hoped was another smile meant to put her at ease and then rose.

"Perhaps you can choose something for supper, and I can radio Brienne and see if everyone is safe. After we eat, I will be out of your way."

Nodding, Sansa managed to croak, "Any preferences?"

Her face wasn't quite so flushed, and she looked grateful to have something so mundane to focus on like dinner.

He cocked his head as if giving the decision some serious consideration when he cared little in truth. He only hoped she would eat, that his being here wouldn't put her off her appetite. Food was just food – sustenance, that was all.

"I think Mayra included a lasagna. That might be good."

Sansa briefly beamed at him and then hurried towards the kitchen to begin dinner.

For a single moment, Jaime wondered what it would be like to be the man given the honour to make her smile like that every day. For the first time since he’d met her, he felt real anger at what her ex-husband had done to her, to dim her light.

And pissed at himself that he’d screwed up any chance he had with her. Because seeing Sansa smile like that? What man would ever do anything to lose that?

Shaking himself, knowing that his role was not to make her smile, Jaime went to find the radio to get a report from Brienne.

For all their sakes, he hoped like hell this storm wasn't what they thought it would be. That it was just some quick squall that would blow out to sea within a few hours.

He wasn't sure he'd survive more than a few days in the presence of Sansa Stark.

Not because she was the bitch she thought she was – but because beneath that hurt, that grief, that anger, Jaime was afraid that he was falling for the broken women he'd only had glimpses of. She was stronger than she thought. Kinder than she gave herself credit for. And a warrior.

Fuck, she was amazing.

How could she not see that?

And who was the idiot that had let her go?

He knew in his heart that Sansa Stark could utterly destroy him in a way that Cersei Westerling Baratheon had never managed to.

And the worst of it was if she wanted to use him, to hurt him - if that somehow helped Sansa find herself, heal herself?

Well, Jaime knew he'd willingly allow her to do so.

Pushing those thoughts aside, and knowing he was in way too deep, Jaime went to call Brienne and find out when this storm might be over, and he could once again put up a safe and respectable distance between him and Sansa Stark.

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Later Evening of Day 1: Sansa  _

For two people that had spent so little time together, they adapted shockingly well to being in a tight space together. Sansa hadn't missed how Jaime had gone out of his way to put her at ease.

She'd grown up around men, had three brothers, and her father always had friends over. In university, she'd been around Sam and Dickon as much as Marg and Ros, and well, she'd been married. She'd lived with a man for years. She'd seen how clueless they could be when it came to women, their emotions, their needs.

And yet, somehow, Jaime, a man she'd scorned, dumped her anger on, rejected, had attempted to make himself less imposing in her small little cottage. He’d tried to put her at ease.

They didn't say much, but that didn't seem to matter. Neither one wanted wine with their supper, content to eat the lasagna that Sansa had heated and sip at their waters.

"It's good," she said, trying to bridge some of the awkwardness that she knew was her fault. She wondered what Jaime was like when he didn’t have to be this careful.

She knew he was treating her like a bomb that could go off at any moment. And who could blame him? She was volatile and angry and he’d suffered more than his fair share of her temper.

"It is," Jaime said, giving her a small, sad little smile.

Gods, this man tied her up in knots – had from the moment she'd stepped foot on the island.

He was too handsome by far, and yet, she'd never once seen him use his good looks to his advantage.

Harry was blond like Jaime. Tall like him as well.

Harry took an excessive amount of pride in what he looked like, how much time he spent grooming.

Sansa had noticed Jaime was wearing mismatched socks. It shouldn't have mattered to her, and yet, she found the ice around her heart-melting just a bit, seeing them on his feet. It was endearing. And adorable.

 _And oh, gods, what was she doing?_ She chastised herself. _Was she really going to let Jaime Lannister in because he was wearing mismatched socks?_

He was polite and seemed to be comfortable with the silences that stretched between them.

Sansa knew he'd gone out of his way to respect her angry book club decree. That was what her olive branch had been about when he’d first shown up at the cottage.

But now that she thought about it, her earlier speech seemed less like an olive branch and more like a leaf. Or a seed.

Not so much a peace offering, as a relaxation of the war that **_she'd_** started between them.

Because Jaime? He'd been nothing but welcoming and open with her since the moment she'd stepped foot on the island.

Sighing, she pushed back her plate. There were times she knew she was unreasonable – she could practically feel the fury roll off her. It had been like this since the moment her son was diagnosed with cancer.

The first year, after Benny had died, she'd been numb. Blissfully numb. She'd taken her pills, her sleeping aids and grieved. She'd cried so many tears, spent hours at his grave, wrapped herself in his blankets and clothing, and thought nothing could be worse.

And then, year two came.

The blissful numbness was gone and left in its’ wake, an angry, bitter woman who railed at the world, at the gods, at anyone who would listen. Harry's affair hadn't helped, although even she knew their marriage was over long before he'd slept with that bimbo.

Why she'd ever thought that coming to Skene would soften her was beyond her comprehension. There was no escaping your own mind, your own heart, your own pain. Not even at the very ends of Westeros.

Now she felt even worse when Jaime rose silently and cleared their plates. She sat, almost frozen, watching as he filled the sink with water and soap, washed and dried the dishes, and then packaged their dinner, placing it inside the fridge.

And all the while she couldn’t help but think of her ex-husband as she watched Jaime move around her little kitchen.

Even though Sansa knew she had zero right to compare the two men, she did so. Easily and willingly. It was as if her brain couldn't help it.

After all, she'd flipped out because she'd determined they were the same, right? What better time to put that theory to the test than right now.

Had Harry ever lifted a finger when it came to doing things around their house?

Sansa tried to think back.

Maybe when he'd been in grad school and she'd still been working on her Bachelor's degree in Oldtown. Back then, they'd both been 'poor' university students, although Sansa did have her trust fund to fall back on. But it had been fun to live like they didn't have much money, and Harry hadn't been so consumed with his image back then.

Lost in her memories, she missed when Jaime moved to the door. The wind was really howling, and the rain was pounding against the cottage.

"What are you doing?" she barked out, hating how accusatory her voice sounded.

Gods, the man had to be sick of her and her mood swings. She knew she was. But being sick of them and getting herself to change were two entirely different things.

"Checking the generator, and then I'll be back. Brienne said the island is in lockdown and that everyone is safe and accounted for."

His voice was calm and reasonable and Sansa had forgotten that he'd spoken with Brienne earlier.

As Jaime slipped outside, she caught a glimpse of the storm, and for the first time, she was grateful that Jaime was here. Shaking herself, admonishing herself for being so snappy, she rose to get dessert and coffee going. It was, after all, the very least she could do.

When he returned, she had everything set up in the living room, where he would be staying. He found her there, adding more peat to the fire, two single lamps burning.

"What's this?" he asked, standing in the room entrance, as if unsure he'd be welcome – in the place she had given him.

_Christ, she was such a bitch, no matter what he said._

She felt the blush rise and made a gesture for him to sit and to join her. Then she wondered if she'd overstepped. Perhaps the last thing he'd want was to be around her. She wouldn’t blame him in the least.

"I thought maybe we could have dessert in here."

She could hear the uncertainty in her voice and fought not to fidget. His rejection, as fair as it might be, would devastate her.

He stared at her, those green eyes of his having a way of seeing almost inside her, and Sansa fought the urge to squirm.

Would he see if for the peace offering she meant it to be? For a woman that had prided herself on her vocabulary, she felt surprisingly tongue-tied around Jaime.

"Thank you," he said softly, taking a seat on the sofa.

Relieved, Sansa took a chair and poured them both coffee, making his the way he liked it.

_Gods, how long had it been since she'd done this for a man?_

Harry had hated when she'd done this, saying she was better than 'waiting' on him. Sansa had never seen it like that. It was a simple thing and brought her pleasure. Jaime's smile was thanks enough.

The silence wasn't quite so uncomfortable as they sipped coffee and listened to the storm. As they did, she studied him. Since learning who he was, Sansa hadn't been able to stop knowing what she knew about the Lannister family from making her curious.

Tywin Lannister, the patriarch, was revered as a god in the financial circles in which Harry had operated. Sansa had spent more than one dinner listening to her husband wax on about the brilliance of the richest man in Westeros. And Sansa had listened to Harry go on and on about how 'idiotic Jaime Lannister was' to walk away from the life he'd been handed on a golden platter.

So why had he?

What made the son, the firstborn son of the country's wealthiest man, choose to be a detective? And how did he end up here?

Despite everything she'd said to him about hating him and that she could never like a man like him, Sansa was curious.

About Jaime. About the choices he made. About how he'd come to sit on her borrowed couch, on this tiny island in the North.

Finally, Sansa blurted out what had been on mind, unable to hold them in.

"Why are you here, Jaime?"

She watched as he put his cup down and then glanced at her – as if to gauge her mood.

Knowing he had every right to be wary of her, because of what she'd asked of him, Sansa wouldn't blame him in the least if he told her to mind her own business. Really, he should tell her to piss off.

But he didn't.

Because as she was discovering, that wasn't who Jaime was.

It was impossible to know precisely what he was - to categorize him.

There was no denying the ugly truth of a fifteen-year affair. And that didn’t shed a good light on him.

But as she was discovering, there were all sorts of other parts to him, things she'd heard, things she'd observed.

And now he was sitting in her cottage, and they had nothing but time and she was curious.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she was curious about someone besides herself. And that knowledge felt wonderful.

"In your cottage? Or Skene?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.

She leaned forward, suddenly needing to know as much as she could about him.

"What made Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin, become a detective?"

Sansa had her eyes glued to Jaime's face, so she didn't miss it when his face registered a bit of shock, then anger at the inclusion of his father's name.

Had she pushed him too far finally? Was his father his trigger? What made Jaime tick?

"Do you really want to know?"

She nodded, realizing she did. Perhaps it was the storm or this weird situation they found themselves in, but she wanted to know more about him.

He gave a slow nod and then cocked his head as if contemplating his words.

When they came, she was captivated by his voice and how he spoke of always knowing that he wanted to help people.

For some, Sansa knew, becoming a police officer was about upholding and enforcing the law.

Brienne struck her as that type. A person who was very black and white and took comfort in the rules.

Pod seemed to like the bit of adventure and respect that came with the role and title.

But Jaime?

She could see how he wanted to help people. To dedicate his life to serving others. To being part of something bigger than himself.

So Sansa sat back and listened as he described going against his father for the first time in his life. Even now, what was years later, he sounded almost apologetic. He spoke of his happiness when he'd passed through the academy with his two best friends and they had stayed in Lannisport to learn how to be cops.

He gave a little shrug when he spoke of going to King's Landing.

"We were young – we craved more. We thought the capital would give it to us. And I wanted to be a detective. That was always my goal. I knew it was where I had to be.”

Sansa was fascinated with this side of Jaime – heir to the biggest fortune in Westeros and content to be a public servant.

She and her friends had been all about academics – slightly superior to the 'working' man and their pursuit of higher education. She could admit now, and she'd been a bit of a snob before life had thrown her curveball after curveball. In their own way, both she and Harry had never been as selfless as Jaime with their career choices.

Sansa knew he edited some of his history – there had to be Cersei moments, but for her sake, he skirted around those. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but when he spoke of finally passing his detective's exam, she could see the pride and sense of accomplishment there.

"My father and brother came to the ceremony," he told her softly, his eyes distant. It must be a good memory.

"When was that?"

His brow furrowed as he was thinking.

"Umm, 2003. I was twenty-nine."

Sansa frowned, wondering where Cersei was.

Hadn't they been involved at that time already? That's what the tabloids had reported.

As if he could read her mind, Jaime's voice spoke softly.

"I didn't start my affair with her for another few years. Not until 2009. She married Robert in 2001, and I didn't see her again until two years after becoming a detective."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask more – to dig, to get to the bottom of this. It was all right there if she was brave enough to ask.

But the feeling of finding out that Harry had been sleeping around on her for months washed over her with Jaime’s words, and whatever intimacy that she and Jaime had built, suddenly evaporated.

Sansa saw the disappointment on his face that she was shutting down.

Or perhaps it was the disgust she couldn't help but feel towards him, even as her mind did some quick math.

Their affair clearly hadn't gone on as long as the tabloids and Cersei herself had implied. Jaime might be many things, but he seemed honest to a fault. Sansa believed him when he said it hadn't started earlier. Not that it made anything better.

In fact, it almost made it worse.

Because for a short time, Jaime seemed like everything she'd ever wanted in a man.

Brave.

Strong.

Honest.

True.

Gentle.

Kind.

Until he reminded her he wasn't.

At least, not all of those things. He wasn't genuine or honest. He was a man that had willingly and knowingly become involved with a married woman. And stayed with her.

More confused than ever, regretting cracking the door open to getting to know him, Sansa rose.

Stiffly she faced him.

"I'll get you some pillows and a blanket."

She saw him nod in resignation, even as he cleaned up their coffee and dessert. When she came back with the supplies, he took them from her without a word.

"I'll keep the fire going and go check the generator," he told her as she reached the stairs.

She didn't even turn but called a brief thank you over her shoulder before she quickly raced up the stairs and away from Jaime Lannister.

But even as she put a floor between them, Sansa was afraid that he'd already wormed his way in past her defences and set up shop in her traitorous heart.

Because despite everything she'd told herself Jaime was, he was beginning to prove her wrong at every turn.

And Sansa had no idea how to handle a Jaime that wasn't the bad guy in her story – because if he wasn't that, he might very well be the man she'd been dreaming about her entire life. Even with his tarnished reputation and questionable choices in lovers.

He was in her mind, and it wouldn't take much for him to break down those walls she'd so carefully constructed around her battered heart and firmly establish himself there.

And that? Well, Sansa had no idea how she might survive falling in love with Jaime Lannister.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, this is hard, but I hope you see what I do - I hope you feel what is building between the two of them. And I hope you continue to trust me with their journey. 
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> Days 2 and 3 of the storm- in which, THINGS will FINALLY be revealed. It's gonna be rough, but in the end, they are going to be so much better for sharing and breaking down those walls.


	9. Day Two of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where some hard truths are revealled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So day 2 of the storm. 
> 
> This is rock bottom - where all the big things are revealed by both. 
> 
> With everything now 'known,' they can begin to heal and rebuild. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me

* * *

[Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621910678850109440/working-on-chapter-9)

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Day 2: Jaime  _

How long did he lie there, awake, on what could only be described as the most uncomfortable couch in all of Westeros?

An hour?

Four?

Jaime didn't know an exact number, but he was well aware that a solid eight hours of sleep had not happened last night. He supposed he had no one to blame but himself.

Things had gone surprisingly well with Sansa on their first evening together in her cottage.

He'd been shocked to see the little coffee service she'd set up for the both of them in the living room, wondering if this would be when things turned for them and that they might begin to be friends.

He hadn't expected her to ask why he'd chosen the career path he had – or at least not ask him as if she cared about his answer.

Many, many people over the years had made assumptions about his choice. More than a few of his cousins and aunts and uncles had expressed their bafflement and outright mockery of him and his need to 'serve the people.'

But no one had looked at him like Sansa did – as if his answer mattered in some fundamental way.

Jaime had watched as Sansa had relaxed as he'd shared his need for his career.

Her body language almost always gave what she was feeling away.

Angry.

Hurt.

Happy.

Sansa was an open book to anyone who cared to observe her.

Jaime made it a point to learn her because she was so closed off in other ways that he didn't want to misstep around her. She was so skittish with him, that one wrong move and he knew he’d be in trouble again.

There had been a moment, over dessert, when they'd both reached for one of her lemon squares and had he not pulled his hand back, their fingers would have grazed. It felt like the air almost crackled with electricity between them.

With any other woman, he might have used that little gesture to his advantage, to flirt, to make her blush, but not with Sansa.

Instead, he'd moved his hand and given her space.

As his story progressed, as he'd been able to do with her since the moment they'd met, he had seen the unanswered question in her eyes – questions about Cersei.

Her entire body language had changed when he saw her think about Cersei.

He couldn't blame her. It always came down to Cersei and his choice to stay with her.

She'd closed down then, almost immediately, hurrying upstairs and he wondered if he'd blown any progress they'd made all to hell.

But, as he twisted again on the lumpy pull-out, Jaime realized something. He wouldn't shy away from bringing up Cersei. Not with Sansa. Not if he ever wanted a real chance with her. It needed to be discussed – openly and honestly.

Jaime vowed he'd never lie to Sansa, no matter what she might ask, and he'd try to answer any questions she had as best he could. He wasn't sure he had all the answers to his affair, nor did he think himself quite the villain that she did.

He’d made a poor choice, but it was a choice based in love.

And in Jaime’s world, that had to count for something.

He'd gotten up twice in the night to check on the generator and restock the peat in the fireplace. Neither the wind nor the rain had let up, and while it wasn't quite snow, the sleety mixture was making a mess of everything. A few degrees colder, and they'd be in a real pickle on Skene.

He must have fallen back asleep after his last check at 4 am, because the next time he woke, he smelled coffee and heard Sansa puttering in her kitchen. She had a radio on low, singing off-key to some country music. A glance at the window had Jaime's eyes widening.

It wasn't quite snow – not in the traditional sense of white and fluffy. But it was something rarely seen.

Ice.

Everywhere.

Somewhere between the last time he'd gone to the generator shed, and when he'd awoken, the temperatures must have dropped, and now everything that had been covered in wet, soggy rain was frozen.

Fearing what this might mean for the village and those that lived on their own, Jaime pushed back the covers and quickly went to find the radio.

Sansa only gave him a brief acknowledgement before she went back to cooking as Jaime picked up the radio that had charged all night.

"Brienne, Pod, come in," he said hurriedly into the little speaker.

His heart was pounding, and he was worried. Jaime liked these people, liked this island. They were under his protection, and he was failing them miserably by being trapped out here.

"Jaime?" Brienne's voice crackled to life.

Relief flooded him as he asked for an update.

Everything was shut down – including Bronn's pub and Ygritte's grocery store. They had issued an island-wide, stay indoors mandate for all the island residents. The ferry would not be running, so they'd made contact with most island residents.

"Things are holding Jaime. We expect more bad weather today, and then we should be through the worst of it. Sandor has promised as soon as the system clears, he'll work on getting the bridge passable for you."

Unable to help himself, Jaime looked at Sansa, who just nodded in resignation.

"It's fine," she mumbled as she realized he'd most likely be stuck here at least one more night.

It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, but he held it back. He got it. He really did. He was in her space. But this wasn't his fault, and he was helping her as much as he could. And he'd given her as much space as he could in her cottage.

So he bit his tongue and spoke with Brienne, getting more information. By the time he was done, Sansa had set a plate of eggs, bacon, toast and potatoes in front of him.

His stomach rumbled, so he gratefully dug in, after offering her a sincere thanks.

She stared at him over the rim of her coffee cup as if she couldn't quite figure him out. The outright hostility he'd sensed last night was there – banked – but still present. But there was something more. As if she thought him a puzzle. He wondered if she knew she got a certain look in her eyes when she had something on her mind.

Grinning to himself, he swallowed a gulp of coffee and decided to switch things up.

"So, did you always know you wanted to be a historian?" he asked her, keeping his face neutral and non-threatening - he hoped.

She startled a bit as if shocked to be asked that question.

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

She wrinkled her nose, and it was goddamn adorable. Fuck, he was so screwed. Everything about this woman intrigued the hell out of him, and he just wanted more from her. That seemed to be his M.O. Falling for women that weren’t interested in him. At least, not interested enough.

"I’m not a historian. Well, I mean, that's not even my field of study. I have my master's in anthropology with some emphasis on history and archaeology. Mostly I'm interested in the preservation of important stories and events through oral history. Kind of a hybrid degree I guess."

She shrugged, downplaying it, but Jaime sensed she was proud of her degrees. As she should be. He wondered who had made her feel less.

"Sounds interesting."

Unable to help herself, and seeing that he'd hit on a subject she was passionate about, Sansa leaned forward and began to speak with him.

It was the most open he'd ever seen her.

He learned that she was an intelligent woman and passionate about her field of study. It gave Jaime a window into who she must have been, before whatever tragedy in her life had robbed her of her happiness.

She was emotive, expressive, and her eyes almost sparkled.

She had been speaking for almost fifteen straight minutes when she abruptly stopped.

Her mouth hung open before she snapped it shut.

"Huh."

Jaime, who'd said nothing, content to let her run with the conversation, sat back and waited.

"Huh, what?"

She wasn't even looking at him, but there was no anger there. She appeared lost in memories. When she turned back to him, he saw the crushing sadness, like a weight bearing down on her. She angrily wiped away a tear.

"I just … "

For a moment, Jaime was afraid she wasn't going to continue, but she took a deep breath.

"It's been a long time since I've felt that way about my work."

"Must feel nice," he murmured.

She laughed, and it sounded bitter. Then she just shook her head and clammed up again.

Sighing, wishing she'd have told him more, Jaime rose to do the dishes.

She was such a complex and fascinating creature, and he was so intrigued by her, sucked in deeper by the moment.

After they had cleaned up breakfast, he slipped outside to do another inspection of the cottage. It was a sturdy thing, and the generator had plenty of fuel. They could last weeks out here, although they might both go mad. When he went back inside, he saw that Sansa had straightened out his bedding.

Not seeing her around, he quickly showered and then found an old mystery novel on the shelf and settled into read.

She emerged from the upstairs around lunchtime, which they worked in short sentences to get prepared. Even with the tension, there was an ease between them when it came to sharing domestic chores.

They were halfway through the Shepard's pie that another resident had made Jaime when Sansa asked him about Buttercup.

"I mean, what's that all about? Do you even like animals?"

She was waving her fork at him, and it took all his willpower not to reach out and touch her. But he wouldn't. He'd promised if anything ever happened, she'd have to make the first move.

So Jaime laughed and sipped his water. He knew he must look like a mad man to be so happy to talk about a sheep, but he couldn't help it.

"So I arrived on Skene, really unsure of what I was getting myself into. The rural life isn’t exactly my milieu."

Sansa arched an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

"You? You're like the poster boy for Skene."

He smirked at her, then he chuckled again, wondering if she had any idea how much he liked her wit and snappy little remarks. She’d keep him on his toes, that was for sure.

"I wasn't. Brienne and Pod emailed me this huge list of things I'd need to survive here, and I sent it all off with one of my Dad's people to buy it for me. I thought I was being banished."

He shrugged, able to smile now, thinking about all the good that had come from his taking the position on Skene. The island had given him far more than it had taken from him.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said.

Jaime searched her face to see if he'd stepped into another landmine when it came to his affair, but she only seemed contemplative. Everyone in the world knew the circumstances in which he’d come to Skene.

"So, anyways, Brienne gave me the tour on my first day and I thought I had it under control."

He gave a rueful grimace.

"I was a mess by day two. My shower was awful, my stove was like trying to work an ancient space shuttle, and I burnt my toast. I think. Anyways, all I know was that I wanted to be on time for my first shift, and when I showed up at the station, there was this little lamb curled up in front of the door. I had no idea what to do, and no matter what I tried, she wouldn't move – just sat there and bleated at me."

Sansa snickered, and Jaime thought it was the best thing he'd heard in a long time. She looked years younger when she laughed and not nearly so beaten down.

"What did you do?"

"Well, aside from thinking about making her into mutton stew?"

Sansa gasped as Jaime laughed, throwing his head back.

"Oh! You horrible man!" she huffed at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I stood there, Sansa. Glaring at a stupid sheep that was ruining my first day. Of course, then Pod showed up, with a muffin from Mayra's place, and the traitor happily moved for him. Pod made me take her back to Sandor's, and we've been friends ever since."

She shook her head at him, pondering his story.

"Wild. Jaime Lannister, friends with a sheep."

"My father thinks I'm mad, living up here and liking it."

She cocked her head, studying him.

"You do, though," she murmured, almost to herself. Then louder, leaning forward. "You do like it here. You like these people, the island, their antics and their bond."

Jaime swallowed hard. How was it possible that the woman that seemed to dislike him the most, saw him the clearest? Was it a cruel trick by the fates? All Jaime had ever wanted was to be in love and loved in return.

"I do."

"And when your term is up? What will you do then, Jaime?"

He saw no judgement in her eyes, no indication that she had an opinion on his choice, one way or the other.

"I'll go back to King's Landing. The Chief of Police down there, Barristan Selmy, well, he's already offered me my old job back. I haven't told anyone here, and I will stay for my two years. I owe them that. But after that, well, I need to go home.”

He appeared almost embarrassed as he said this, though Sansa thought he was also a bit relieved and happy. It must have been hard, she realized, to be driven away from a career that Jaime wanted, had worked so hard for. Now he’d done his duty and would be welcomed back, the prodigal son.

Still, from what she'd seen of him on Skene, he wasn't unhappy here. Nor was it a case of him not fitting in. The island residents adored him.

"Even if you're happy here?"

Jaime braced himself for her not to understand his choice. He knew others wouldn't - people like Brienne and Pod.

Ironically, Sansa was the only person he could speak to about this. Everyone else would be too hurt and too angry at him.

"I love Skene, Sansa. I do. But I also made a promise to serve those in King's Landing. I'm not proud of a lot of my choices in life, but becoming a cop? Becoming a detective? I am proud of that. There are bad people out there, and I have the skills to help."

For the first time since that first day, he saw respect in her eyes for him.

"I understand. They'll understand, Jaime. They love you, and they might take a bit to get used to it, but they'll understand."

He shrugged, brushing it off. He wasn't so sure. They were all so invested, so emotional up here. He knew Pod and Brienne were secretly hoping he stayed, but what type of man would that make him? He'd vowed to serve those in the capital, and he couldn't do that if he stayed here. He'd already broken so many vows in his life, and he couldn't live with this one. Skene was always meant to be temporary, no matter how much he loved it.

Lost in his thoughts, he was aware of her suddenly doing the dishes. He went to rise, to help her, and she waved him back down.

"Sit. I'll do it."

He nodded, watching her. When she came back to the table, she quickly reached out, as if unsure, and squeezed his shoulder. It was the first time she'd touched him. Then her hand was gone and he wondered if he’d imagined it.

"Leaving Skene doesn't make you a bad man, Jaime."

Then she was gone, and he was left sitting there stunned by how fundamentally right it felt when he was with her.

Their afternoon and evening passed in much the same manner as the morning. Jaime went and checked on the generator again, shutting it down briefly to add some more fuel. Sansa came that time, and he tried not to take too much delight when she slipped and reached out and grasped onto his arm.

Jaime appreciated that she wanted to learn how to be self-sufficient, although he could already tell she was a very competent woman. He showed her again and watched as she struggled but succeeded in filling the generator before they did a circle of the cottage. If anything, the wind had gotten colder, and the ice had not melted at all.

Another quick check-in with Brienne and Jaime finally relaxed enough to nap on his sofa, the warm fire making the cottage cozy.

He awoke hours later, to a dark room and the smell of something delicious cooking. Scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, he found Sansa taking what looked like biscuits out of the oven, while she stirred something appealing on the stove.

She saw him standing there and winked.

"Mutton stew."

Jaime blanched and saw her throw her head back in delight.

"I knew it! I bet you haven't eaten lamb in a year!"

Jaime was stunned by her – this carefree, happy woman who was making jokes with him and laughing as if the world hadn't beaten her down. He wished he could freeze time, preserve this exact moment.

Knowing if he made too big a deal, he scowled and rubbed at his neck.

"Who told you?"

She shrugged, saying nothing.

Tonight, Jaime noticed there was a bottle of red wine on the table.

Progress perhaps?

It turned out dinner was beef stew, not mutton, thank the gods, and that Sansa had made the biscuits herself. When he complimented her, she deflected his praise.

Frowning, Jaime sipped at his wine.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

"Do what?"

"Not take credit for something you do well?"

She put down her fork, and for a moment, Jaime wondered if he'd overstepped. But as he looked closer, she appeared contemplative, not angry, which was good.

"My husband, well, my ex-husband, he was sensitive to things he thought were 'beneath' us."

She'd used air quotes for the word beneath, and Jaime wondered again who this douchebag was that she'd married. He came from the wealthiest family in Westeros and still didn't sound like half the snob this jackass was.

Jaime snorted and mumbled something to that effect.

"What's that?" She asked eyes narrowed.

"I said, he sounds like a pretentious asshole," Jaime snarked back.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, Jaime thought she might snap on him. Then her head went back again, and she laughed, long and deep. Fuck he wanted to kiss her.

"Oh gods, was he ever. And the best part was, he came from nothing."

Jaime's eyes widened, and she waved a hand, taking another gulp of wine.

"I don't mean it like that. I'm not a snob."

She paused.

"Well, maybe a bit. But honestly, it didn't matter to me that Harry was an orphan and that he came from nothing. Hell, at first, that's what attracted me to him. A self-made man and all that. But then, well, it just became everything you know? Like he cared more about what labels we were wearing and the cars we drove and the house where we lived, then things that mattered. Things like family, and making a house a home. I just… I mean, I'm a Stark. I get it. But not really?"

She did that wrinkled nose thing again, and Jaime was lost.

Lost in her, lost in the potential of what she might become, lost in how she was so beautiful and challenging, such a puzzle to figure out. How she kept trying, even when she’d been dealt a shitty hand in life.

Who wouldn’t fall for someone like her?

"Like that stuff didn't matter as much to me. I always wanted to get my doctorate, and well, the rest of it? It would happen when we were ready. But not for Harry. He had all these ‘plans’ and ideas of how we should act. Hell, he even told me he indulged my schooling. So yeah, me baking and cleaning and just doing things I liked? He didn't like to see me do those things."

For a brief moment, Jaime thought about not saying much. He could simply nod in the affirmative, and they could most likely have a pleasant night.

But gods, there was such a good lead into his relationship with Cersei – their differences on what was important.

And if Jaime wanted anything, any chance at all with Sansa, they had to discuss it. They had to.

So he took a deep breath and braced himself.

"I understand."

He saw her eyebrows do some sort of frowny thing, but he kept going.

"I met Cersei when I was twenty-four. We were the exact same age, our birthdays only a week apart."

He saw Sansa tense, but she didn't leave the table, their food all but forgotten.

"Addam, my best friend and fellow cop, well, we'd just moved to King's Landing. I stopped her from being mugged."

"Is that when it started?" her voice was so soft he barely heard her.

Jaime shook his head.

"No. Not the affair. She was single and I knew she was out of my league. Addam and I were living in this shitty apartment and working awful shifts. She was working for House of Tyrell and drove a car that cost more than I made."

Sansa looked confused.

"But you're a Lannister."

"But I wasn't _that_ type of Lannister. I hadn't touched my trust fund in well, ever. I was determined to make it on my own. Drove my father mad, but hey, I was young and stubborn. I rescued her, she thanked me, told her to call her and then I didn't. I didn't see her again for almost half a year. I ran into her in the park. I was twenty-five and had just been on an awful date."

Sansa appeared utterly fascinated by his tale, and Jaime wondered if he was the dumbest man alive for bearing his soul like this, or if this was what he needed to do. What they needed to do.

Either way, he was too far in now to stop. And funnily enough, he didn’t want to. He’d rarely shared the Cersei story with anyone but Sansa was important.

"What happened?"

He rose and opened another bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass. This was going to take some more liquid courage for sure.

"We talked. She teased me. I was intrigued, even when I knew we wanted different things. But, I was young, and she captivated me. I took her for a date – she demanded more. I was hooked. She was passionate, bold, daring. Then I found out she was going out with another man to a huge social event. I was furious. I thought since we were sleeping together, we were exclusive. I was wrong. I stayed away for a month. When I saw her again, in the park, she sobbed and told me she was sorry that she'd messed up. I took her back. I loved her, and I thought that's what people did."

He paused then and got a faraway look in his eyes as he thought back over twenty years ago. He should have just said no, then and there. But he hadn't.

He gave Sansa a small, sad smile.

"We can't help whom we love, can we?"

She was silent, her face unreadable and Jaime wondered if he'd lost her after all.

But still, he knew, even if she never spoke to him again, he had to share this tale with her. It was the only way forward and the only chance he had with Sansa.

So he took a deep breath when she didn’t run from the room and continued to speak, praying that some god, somewhere was going to give him a break and let this woman in front of him understand, at least partially, why he’d made the choices he had.

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Evening of Day 2: Sansa  _

Sansa sat frozen as she listened to Jaime's story.

This entire day had been a riot of emotion and she didn’t know exactly what she was feeling. It was more than apparent that Jaime wasn’t the horrible man she'd made him out for the past two months.

She'd heard him slip outside, twice, last night to check on their power supply. She'd seen him help with food, do clean up, and make her laugh with his story about Buttercup.

He was slightly self-deprecating, ridiculously honest and kind. So kind. His eyes always seemed to warm when he observed her, and he seemed interested in her and her life.

And he'd called Harry a pretentious jackass. That all had to count for something, right?

Dinner had been fun, in a way that nothing had been in a very long time for Sansa, and she found her tongue loosening and herself relaxed. It was why she'd been honest about Harry and what type of person he was.

She'd never really noticed it before, but watching Jaime for the past twenty-four hours and watching her ex, well, she'd had her eyes opened. As much as she wanted Harry and Jaime to be the same, she realized they were nothing alike.

And then Jaime had brought up Cersei.

Was it possible to hate a woman she'd never met?

And how was it that all these feelings of disappointment and regret came rushing back the moment Jaime reminded her of why she'd disliked him in the first place.

Cersei.

The affair.

Her brain and heart were having such a hard time reconciling what she knew and what she was feeling.

She could see the responsibility he took on himself about his affair, and she could also see that he expected her to snap on him at any moment.

A part of her wished she could – that she could find that cold, bitchy part of herself and tell him he'd crossed a line. Then she'd sail out of the room, riding high on her moral superiority and never know what he wanted to tell her.

Because even when her life had been a complete mess, she had not broken her vows to Harry.

A small, quiet voice whispered through her brain. _But you didn't exactly fulfill your vows to cherish your husband, either, did you?_

Sansa knew that with Ben's illness and subsequent death, she had been closed off and unable to comfort him. But Harry hadn't offered her a shoulder to cry on either. They had existed like strangers when she'd come back to their home in the Eyrie, haunted by the ghost of their son, and the reality that their marriage was failing.

Pushing that disturbing thought aside, Sansa was just about to make a cutting remark, when Jaime's sad eyes found hers.

"We can't help whom we love, can we?"

Startled, the words penetrated her heart, she shook her head.

"No, we can't."

Her voice sounded almost foreign to her ears.

It wasn't an excuse.

It wasn't a get out a jail free card.

It wasn't anything really, but the truth.

Jaime sighed again and began to speak, as thoughts whirled in Sansa's head. She felt stuck to her chair, unable to leave, needing to hear what he had to say.

It was a purge, for both of them.

"We were together for a while – almost a year. And then the gala event came up again. She wanted me to go, and I didn't. She was angry; I was 'just' a detective. I was pissed she couldn't be happy with my chosen career. It got worse. She made no apologies about expecting me to take my place as my father's heir, and I was unwilling to give up the career I loved. She wanted a life that I wasn't going to give her."

Though she said nothing, Sansa's opinion of Cersei worsened. She knew she was only getting Jaime's side, but the man was honest to a fault. It was clear that being a police officer was a calling for Jaime, which brought him true happiness. What type of woman wanted a man to change that?

"My best friend warned me about her after we broke up that first time. I was twenty-six and in love, but I couldn't stay if she wanted me to be something I wasn't. Like an idiot, I didn’t listen to him. So our second break up happened, because I couldn’t be the man she wanted, or needed in her life."

Sansa ached to say something to him. She could see the pain this story still caused him and wondered if he still loved this woman. A woman that Sansa was already coming not to like very much. She found her hand leaving her wine glass as if to reach for his, to offer some type of comfort, before she snatched it back as if burned.

She thought about asking a question but didn't even know where to start, and Jaime seemed lost in his world as he recited his story to her.

The silence went on, perhaps a moment or two longer than could be considered comfortable. Sansa wondered if he was done talking for the evening. Just as she was about to rise, to take the dishes to the sink and begin to clean up, he began again.

"I was home at Casterly Rock when I found out she was engaged to marry Robert. She hadn't even told me. Our family was invited to the wedding since my father was friends with Steffon."

It was impossible to miss the devastation on Jaime's face when he said these words, and Sansa could feel his heartbreak, even after all these years.

"So, how did it all begin?" Sansa found herself asking, despite her best intentions. She wanted to know, sucked into the story. How did a man like Jaime end up sleeping with a woman like Cersei?

For a moment, she thought he might not answer her. He squirmed slightly, which was the first time Sansa had ever seen him act uncomfortable with this topic. She remembered what Jon had said to her – that Jaime had owned his affair, his choice, his consequences. And while that was admirable, it wasn't a reason.

Sansa needed a reason.

A reason why a man like Jaime that seemed to have everything going for him would choose a woman like her.

It wasn't even like Cersei was a good person.

From everything Jaime had shared, Sansa thought her manipulative, cunning and selfish. It might have been easier to accept the entire thing if Sansa knew that Cersei was good. But she wasn't.

And Jaime was none of those things. He wasn't manipulative, or cunning, or cold or calculating. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.

So yeah, she needed to know.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?" he said, sipping at his wine, and giving her a grimace.

She said nothing, her eyes locked on him.

"Look, I want to tell you that I know how, or why, or that I tried to stay away. I mean, I did, at first. I ran into her a few years after her marriage, again, at some societal event. She had two children already, and we all knew Robert was fucking his way through the women of King's Landing faster than most men could change their underwear. Everyone knew it. Hell Sansa, she knew it. She knew what he was, the marriage she was getting, and she did it anyway."

He stood then, pushing back from the table, pacing the tiny kitchen. She could feel the hurt radiating off him in waves.

 _Was it any wonder she was so bitter, when people could cause each other so much pain,_ she thought as she watched him.

"Do you know how angry that made me? Who does that? What type of woman marries a man that she knows will never love her? For what? To climb to the social ladder? For money? Security?"

He paused.

"Who chooses that over a man that loves her?"

Sansa said nothing, her gaze fixated on Jaime. She had no answers for him. 

She had no idea what to think. That type of marriage was abhorrent to her.

And to Jaime.

Funnily enough, Sansa had always imagined that Jaime would have been alright with those 'society' type marriages, given his choice of lover. But by his ranting and pacing, he was not. And that warmed something inside her.

Jaime did not like marriages for political gain. It wasn’t much, but it absolved something inside her when it came to his role in this entire affair.

He hadn’t broken up two people in love – it wasn’t an out, but it was something.

"And even knowing she choose him, over me, I still fucking loved her. Gods, I'm an idiot."

There was nothing Sansa could see to make Jaime feel worse. The man was obviously well aware of how destructive and awful his being in love with Cersei was.

He was lost, the words tumbling faster and faster, almost as if he'd forgotten she was still there.

"Five years, Sansa," he muttered, turning back to her.

So, he hadn't forgotten she was there after all.

"It had been five years since I'd last spoken to her. And I was set to walk away, be polite, leave, and drown my sorrows that night of the gala. But she caught me and implied that Robert hurt her."

He came and slumped back in his chair, running his hands over his stubbled face.

 _Gods, he looked like a fallen angel_ , Sansa thought. So broken and distraught, clearly at war with himself.

"I wonder now if he did. It was the perfect lure for me, you know? Tell me that her husband, whom we both knew she did not marry for love, abused her.”

His snort told her how much he hated himself for believing her.

Unsurprisingly, Sansa understood how a man like Jaime wouldn't be able to prevent himself from helping her if he thought she was being hurt. Even if she’d willingly married a man like Robert. It would be impossible for Jaime to stay away. More and more, Sansa disliked Cersei.

"Did it start then?"

"What?" he asked, green eyes unfocused until he shook himself.

“The affair?”

"No." His voice was whisper soft. His story was challenging everything Sansa had heard the news say – how they'd painted their affair.

The laugh that followed that declaration was bitter.

"No. We became – friends. Secret friends, but friends. She'd bring her children, Joff and Cella, to the park, and we'd chat. Even then, I knew it wasn't right. I wanted more, felt more. Sometimes, and I hate admitting this to you, I used to pretend we were a family."

Sansa wanted to reach for him then, to hug him, to offer him comfort. His words were so sad, so desolate. It was clear that Jaime had just wanted what most people did. Someone to love and cherish, to build a life with. She could see how much being involved with this woman had destroyed him.

"Robert was still sleeping with anyone he wanted, and I guess I thought things were good between us, but then she ghosted me. For a month. I was a mess. When the news broke, she and Robert were wrapped around each other. Robert announced his bid for Mayor and her, well, Cersei told the world about her third pregnancy. I was livid. When we finally met, I said some nasty things, implied others. I just couldn't…. how could she stay with him?"

His eyes were wet, and Sansa felt confused. _When did their affair start?_

It must have shown on her face, for Jaime gave a little shake of his head.

"I know you're wondering, how did it happen? I'd said no to her all those times before, walked away from her, did not crossed any lines. How does a man that loves someone, someone who uses him, finally give in?"

She wanted to deny it, but she felt that he deserved the truth. So Sansa tilted her chin and nodded.

"Yes. She sounds awful. Why would you ever even want to be with her after all of that? I don't get it."

Jaime was silent for a time, his fingers drumming on the kitchen table. Sansa wasn't sure he was going to answer her, and she was almost afraid that he would.

Because she had firmly put Jaime in camp "cheater." And yet now, he seemed much more human and like a man that had fallen for a very manipulative woman and had not known how to get out. She wasn't excusing his behaviour – not at all. But the entire affair was far more complicated than she'd known.

"I was dating a woman, a doctor. She was great. Kind, sweet, a bit sassy. Normal, you know."

Sansa nodded, almost holding her breath in anticipation. It was like a car wreck she couldn't look away from.

"And then my father invited Cersei and Robert to the Rock that summer. My girlfriend was back in King's Landing, and I was alone. Cersei sailed into my family home as if she'd been born to rule it, and I was lost. I broke up with Ella. I knew I was weak. I knew I was a bastard. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I _knew_ ," he emphasized.

"And yet, you still did it."

He nodded, meeting her eyes, which she was sure held disappointment and judgment. Gods, he was such a good man, and then this. It was so ugly and horrid and awful.

"I don't think I'm a bad man, but I am a man that made a bad choice. I admit that. I own that."

"So that was it?" Sansa asked a bite to her words. "After years of resisting her, you just said, fuck this, I'm gonna be as awful as her?"

She saw her words fall like physical blows, and still, Jaime took them.

"I was lonely. I missed her. I loved her," was all he said.

Sansa shook her head at him, rising to clear the dishes finally. She had no idea what she felt, but any good feelings had long been chased away. It was all just so icky, and she hated that she liked Jaime, even knowing his history.

Now hearing it all, as he'd presented it to her, she was almost angry at this attraction between them.

She was furiously scrubbing at their plates, Jaime still sitting at the kitchen table, when she turned, bubbles on her hands.

"I just don't get it. You're smart. You have a great career. You have money. You have to know how handsome you are. Why her? Why do that? Why risk everything for her?”

She had to give him credit as he met her glare.

"I justified it. Their marriage wasn't a 'real' one based on feelings. It was a tradeoff for both of them. I thought she loved me. I thought we were tragic but destined. Fuck, I don't know. I just fucking loved her, Sansa. Wholly. Completely. Even when I knew she was terrible for me, bad to me. Can you tell me you've never fallen in love with the wrong person?"

She stilled, thinking about Harry. Lately, thoughts of her marriage had caused her almost as much issue as the death of her son. Her ex was a selfish, self-absorbed jerk.

And yet, she had loved him. Committed herself to him. Most likely never would have left him, had she not found him cheating on her.

"No. No, I can't," Sansa responded. "But that doesn't mean that what you did was right. It doesn't excuse it."

Jaime scoffed.

"I know that. Fuck, you think I don't know that. Do you know what it felt like to find her sleeping with Euron Greyjoy? I'd given up everything for her Sansa. A chance at a family. A marriage. Openness. All to be with her. For eight fucking years, I'd given her everything. And she destroyed that. And then tried to destroy my career, the one thing I had. I was devastated."

Everything in Sansa paused when Jaime said that word.

_Devastated._

He had been devastated.

Logically, she knew he most likely had been.

She'd sat through his story, heard how much he'd loved Cersei. Not that she would make any excuses for him, but there was nothing untrue about his feelings. Even she could see that they were real, sincere and genuine.

Jaime Lannister had fallen in love with an awful woman. And then made an equally, if not worse choice, to sleep with her, to begin their affair. Sansa could see there had been a fair amount of manipulation by Cersei, even if he didn’t, and she could see that the entire thing wrecked him.

Sansa had been good, up until that point.

Willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Willing to perhaps extend that olive leaf into a full branch.

Willing to believe that they might be friends.

And then he'd said, with real anguish in his voice, because she, of all people, knew anguish, that he'd been devastated. So she knew he had been devastated, but she couldn’t handle hearing that word come from his mouth.

It was like flipping a switch. A trigger for her, if you will.

That word.

_Devastated._

Sansa knew it was a trigger for her.

Her family knew it.

Hell, even her therapist knew it.

But Jaime did not.

Her eyes narrowed as she felt the rage bubble up inside of her.

"You felt devastated?" she repeated, her voice like a whip, lashing and cutting it was so cold.

Almost instantly, Sansa saw Jaime tense. He looked at her then, and she knew the man knew he'd just crossed some invisible line, even if he had no idea what he’d done.

But there was no holding back the words, the feelings, the sheer outrage she felt.

"Sansa, wait…" he tried to say, back peddling.

She laughed, bitter and sharp.

"Oh no, of course, you felt devastated. You'd just found out that your married lover was fucking another man."

She grabbed a towel and angrily dried her hands, stepping closer to him.

Her thoughts were whirling so fast, and she almost couldn't keep up with them.

"Jaime Lannister, the golden son of Tywin, _devastated_ when his affair became public."

"Perhaps I used the wrong word," he tried to say. "She was my world for so long, and it was all crumbling…"

Sansa didn’t even hear him, the roar of rage pounding inside her. Her breath was coming in pants, palms damp as her heart raced.

"Do you want to know what true devastation is, Jaime?"

Wisely, Jaime said nothing, just sitting there are she loomed over him.

Had she been able to see herself, she would have seen a woman pushed too far - that had let emotion and hurt build up too much.

Had she known Jaime better, she would have understood that the man was gazing at her with only compassion in his eyes.

But she could not and did not. Instead, fueled with a wave of righteous anger, she unleashed, not waiting for him to answer her question.

"Devastation is being told your son, and your _child_ has cancer. Devastation is not having your husband support you when you find the best doctors in Westeros to treat your sick son, but they are in Oldtown. Devastation is holding his tiny body when he screams as the drugs they injected into his body made him hurt. Devastation is watching him lose weight, seeing his hair fall out, learning everything a mother should never have to know about tube feedings and anti-nausea medications to counter the effects of chemotherapy."

Her breath hitched and lost in her pain, and she didn't see the empathy in Jaime's eyes. The sheer horror he felt on her behalf.

"Devastation is being told your three-year-old son has days to live. _Days_. He was barely three and he had days to live. Devastation is holding him as he shuddered out his last breath, listening to them call the time of death on your child."

Her legs wobbled, and Jaime was there, holding her. She hadn't even realized her eyes and cheeks were wet as she sobbed into his chest. It didn't matter who he was – he was just there, giving her strength and supporting her.

"Devastation is picking out his casket, designing his headstone. Devastation is being so consumed with grief that you can't love your husband, so he sleeps with another woman. Devastation is knowing that even if I claw my way out of my grief, I will never have another child that looks like Ben because my husband didn't love me enough to stay true to his vow to me. That is devastation. That is having your entire world crumble."

Jaime's arms tightened, and for a moment, Sansa drew comfort from them, how strong and sure she felt. But she knew that was just an illusion. Jaime wasn't the answer to any of her problems.

She took a single moment to look at him, and what she saw on his face almost destroyed her.

The man was utterly wrecked. But she could not offer platitudes or words of comfort.

All her pain, all her secrets, all the shit she had gone through was now there, like a living thing between them. And she had no idea how to deal with that.

Gently, she pushed back from him, building her walls back up.

"So you'll excuse me if your 'devastation' doesn't move me the way mine does. In the game of who's pain is worse, I win, Jaime. I will always win. I never asked for my son to get cancer. I never asked for my husband to cheat on me. I didn't do anything to deserve what happened to me."

Unspoken was the clear implication that he'd brought his pain on himself by choosing to sleep with Cersei. And he never said a thing in his own defence.

Without another word, she left the kitchen and hurried upstairs and away from the man who had seen way too much of her and her raw, unfettered grief.

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Later Evening of Day 2: Jaime _

Jaime watched as Sansa fled the kitchen as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

Not that he blamed her in the least.

He reached for the chair, wobbling slightly as he sat.

He felt ill, trying to process what she'd told him.

He'd known, as they all had, that something awful had to have happened to her. A woman like Sansa didn't just end up on Skene, alone, with no husband and no children without something having gone wrong in her life.

Jaime had tried not to speculate, knowing that any number of things might have happened to her.

But nothing he'd imagined had prepared him for what he'd just learned.

There were so many layers of pain, so much hurt, so much anger, that Jaime scarcely knew where to begin. How did a person recover from such devastating losses?

As a police officer, he'd attended some truly awful scenes. There had been car accidents where a family was destroyed in a single instance. There had been calls to confirm suicides, and Jaime had watched parents cling to one another as the Coroner, and the cops had dutifully gone about their jobs.

But always, in the end, Jaime had been able to walk away from it.

Sansa could not.

This was her life.

Her son was dead.

And by its sounds, her husband had not been her rock or her support during the ordeal.

It made Jaime want to find the man and punch him in the face.

_Who the fuck did that to his wife? Who the fuck did that to her?_

Jaime hadn't missed how she blamed herself for her ex's cheating, which was heartbreaking.

Nor had he missed her pain when she'd said she'd never have another child that looked like her son.

He'd never even considered such a thing before, how the breakup of a marriage after the death of a child was about so much more than just the marriage dissolving. It took with it any hopes and dreams of finding peace in the future as well.

 _How was she even functioning, with everything she'd been through?_ Jaime wondered.

He had no idea how long he sat in the kitchen. He knew when he went and finished the dishes, the water was cold.

He thought he heard muffled sobbing but knew he would not be welcome in her sanctuary upstairs, so instead, he pulled on his outside gear and headed to the shack to fuel up the generator for the night.

It might have been warmer, the precipitation now back to rain, but he was too lost in all he'd just learned to pay any attention to it. The weather felt like it meant nothing to him.

When he came back inside, he attended to the fire, and then settled on the sofa, not even bothering to make himself a bed. He knew he wouldn't sleep, and he was worried about Sansa. Deeply worried. She might not see it, but it felt like she was teetering on the brink. And he didn’t want her to fall over.

He wanted to stay awake, to be alert, in case she needed something in the night. Even if she never knew he'd kept vigil over her, it was the least he could do for her. There was a massive part of Jaime that worried that happiness, peace and contentment would be lost to the woman upstairs.

She was a fighter, he'd give her that.

But he knew if she continued to fight alone, she'd lose.

And that was not something Jaime was prepared to watch happen to her.

So as he sat in the dark, listening to the wind howl, Jaime plotted how to help Sansa find her way back to the living – even if that meant making himself the target of all her hurt and grief. It would be worth it if it meant she could find her way back the light.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Day 3 of the storm and then the end of the storm. Like I've said, this is one of the major turning points in this story, where we begin to claw our way out of this little pit I've them in. 
> 
> I am really excited about what I have upcoming for these two - I have at least 4 more chapters well plotted out that i want to get up sooner rather than later, although this story is far, far from over. 
> 
> I promise you peak romance, softness, healing, and so many, many good things.


	10. Day three of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Sansa begins to heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, day 3 of the storm.
> 
> I really hope this is what people have been waiting for. I'm so excited for this chapter. 
> 
> Be gentle with Sansa!

* * *

  
  


[Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/622093551318220800/show-chapter-archive)

* * *

_ Winter Storm – Day 3: Sansa  _

Sansa was stalling.

She knew. She suspected Jaime knew it.

She'd tided her room, which was more like a loft, remade the bed twice, and had vainly attempted to log onto the internet to check the storm's status.

Nothing.

For once, Sansa wished she hadn't insisted on such isolation from her family, for surely a call from Arya or a funny text from Rickon would help her avoid how she'd acted last night. But when she'd set out for Skene, she'd insisted on her family that she needed to do this alone.

Arya still checked in, but it was mostly email, and for a while, that had been enough for Sansa.

She had slept fitfully the night before, the hard truths that she'd buried for so long slapping her in the face. She had no idea what her conversation with Jaime was dragging it all up, but it was.

The cold hard facts were that she was alone.

No child.

No husband.

Very few friends.

A family that loved her that she was driving away.

And she had no idea to stop the train wreck that had become her life.

There was a part of her, a more significant part than she liked to admit, that got a twisted sense of satisfaction when she shocked people when she shared with them that Ben had died. 

She'd done it from time to time – mostly to unsuspecting strangers. It was almost a bit of a power rush to blurt out - in the most awful way possible - that her son had died. She hated that a part of herself took a tiny bit of joy in seeing people stumble when they heard about Ben.

Because what did you say to a mother who was living the nightmare?

There was nothing, and most people just fumbled about.

Of course, when she'd done this before, she'd been able never to see these people again.

But that was not the case with Jaime.

He was still here, either trapped because the bridge hadn't been fixed, or waiting to speak with her. She knew he wouldn't let it go. He wasn't that type of man.

After her crying jag last night, when she'd grabbed Benny's favourite little stuffy, a lion, and his blanket and curled up with them, she could admit to herself that what she'd seen on Jaime's face hadn't been pity – it had been empathy.

For so long, people had deferred to her moods, her temper, her anger. What few friends she had the only one that was left was Marg, and they hadn't spoken in months. With their perfect family and perfect marriage, Ros and Dickon had been too much for Sansa to handle. Everyone else she’d deliberately cut out of her life. She resented when people hadn’t made the effort with her, because she was the one in pain, and yet when someone did, she almost always pushed them away.

Sansa knew it was a vicious cycle and not one that was healthy and she wondered if that was part of her big freak out with the book club women. Because despite their meddling, most of them seemed to be good people.

Her family indulged her mood swings, because the men in the Stark clan had mostly not known how to deal with her, and her mother had been lost in her own grief. When it came to ‘dealing’ with her, it was always _Don't anger Sansa_ or _Sansa wouldn't like that._

She had thought by coming to Skene, by accepting this research job, she'd been moving towards some new stage in her life, but perhaps she had just been running away from the fact that she seemed to be doing a damn good job of destroying her life.

Her marriage.

Her friendships.

Her family.

All were teetering on the brink.

She knew people loved her and wanted to help, she just often refused them. She couldn’t blame them for getting fed up with her. Hell, she was fed up with herself.

When the dawn had broken, she'd curled up in a chair that looked towards the sea, and simply sat and thought.

She was exhausted.

It felt like she was stretched too thin, like her bones were brittle and soon she might fade away entirely.

She wasn't even thirty, and she felt ancient.

How long had it been since anyone had offered her any comfort, and she'd willingly taken it?

For a brief moment, she recalled Jaime's strong arms around her, and how he'd just held her. If she'd had let herself, she never would have left that protective embrace.

Because it felt good.

It felt peaceful. It felt safe.

It felt like perhaps she wasn't so alone in this world if only she was willing to let someone be there for her.

That was the worst part of the breakup of her marriage – how alone she felt. Her husband had betrayed her in the most basic way. It wasn't about the physical act of sleeping with another woman, but how he'd emotionally checked out and left her to pick up the pieces of this broken life. Harry was supposed to be the one to help put her back together – to hold her as she cried oceans of tears for their dead son. Instead, he’d abandoned her.

Sansa tried to imagine Jaime doing that to a wife that he loved, and she knew that he'd never. He'd stay – even if he had to sacrifice some of himself to do so. He was that type of man. A man that took his vows seriously. If he ever did fall in love, Sansa knew that woman would be cherished.

Any lingering anger she had towards him for his affair seemed to drift away, like smoke in the night. It took too much effort to be angry at a man that didn't deserve it and had paid dearly for his poor choice.

Still, that didn't mean she was ready to face him. Embarrassment thrummed through her body, the harsh words she'd spewed at him a mantra repeating over and over in her mind. She still couldn’t believe what she’d said to him.

So instead of facing it, facing Jaime, she did what she'd been doing since the moment she heard that awful diagnosis – she retreated into herself, cloaking herself in what Harry had called her Ice Queen mode.

She'd be distant and polite, and hopefully today, Jaime would be able to leave. Then she'd do her best to avoid him, for she was sure he'd never want to speak to her again.

Her face was a mask, perfectly made up, her hair in a braid, as she padded downstairs when she smelled coffee. That was her signal. Better to get this over with.

Sansa slipped into the kitchen, noting he'd pulled out bacon and eggs, but stood there staring at them as if he were unsure what to do next. It was slightly adorable, since he had on two different mismatched socks, a woollen sweater that looked expensive and some faded jeans.

She might be a grieving mother and a divorcee and she might not have even thought of sex in years, but she wasn’t blind.

There was no denying the salty goodness that was this man.

He was breathtakingly gorgeous and handsome in a way that Sansa had always found attractive. Tall, leanly muscled, blond hair with two days of scruff on his beautiful face.

He had to know the moment she was there, for he was too well trained in his field to be caught unaware, but he gave her a chance to grab a coffee before he spoke.

Smiling, he said, "Good morning." He’d tilted his head, not his body towards her, so she was able to catch the edge of uncertainty in his voice as if he wasn’t quite sure what reception he might receive.

She had no idea why he put up with her shit – she’d put him through the wringer.

She wasn't prepared for his warmth, nor his forgiveness, so she just nodded. It was better if she kept her mouth shut.

"Did you sleep?" he asked, all kindness and concern.

She shook her head and watched as he sighed, clearly a bit frustrated with her and worried. She went and took a seat at the kitchen table, putting space between them.

Welcome to my world, she thought bitterly, where I piss everyone off. Even those who love me. It was exhausting and yet like a merry-go-round, Sansa had no idea how to get off this self-destructive path.

Up until this morning, she had no idea if she’d even wanted to.

But seeing this man, a virtual stranger, try so hard, for her, some of that ice around her heart melted.

He was leaning against the counter, his eyes locked on hers.

"Look, I know things got heavy between us last night, and while you've had a while to deal with what you're going through, I'm still trying to process it."

"Just forget about it," she finally said, wishing the floor would swallow her up. She knew that when people learned about Ben, they often treated her like a leper. She was the embodiment of most people’s nightmares.

Sansa also knew she should apologize to this man for how she’d treated him, but the words seemed stuck in her throat.

"I can't," he whispered as he turned away from her, a deep sigh shuddering through his entire body.

His back was hunched over, and she saw that he was gripping the countertop.

Hard.

So hard his knuckles were white.

Huh.

What was that about? Was he that angry at her?

She didn't sense she was in any danger from him. She knew that Jaime would never hurt her. It was at that moment she realized how much she’d come to trust him – even with her breakdowns and freak outs. This man would not hurt her. Ever. The relief that coursed through her at that epiphany was wonderful.

She had no idea what she’d done to deserve such loyalty, and not from Jaime. But she knew she had it.

Still, as she observed him, it was clear he was not happy. Not happy with her. She couldn't blame him in the least.

When he turned back towards her, his green eyes flashed, and she saw the riot of emotion there. Emotions she had brought out in him. The least she could do was let him have her say.

"Look, Sansa, I heard from Brienne this morning. The storm has cleared enough that Sandor is working on the bridge. I figure midafternoon, and I can be gone. If that's what you want."

Fear gripped her. She had just come to realize that Jaime was the good man that everyone said he was, that he was kind and true and loyal and now he was talking about leaving.

It seemed like she drove everyone away, and he’d be no different.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

Her breath came in short pants as she tried to think of what she might say to get him to stay. Suddenly the thought of him not being there felt wrong, especially with how things were between them.

Why couldn’t she just say the words, _don’t go!_

Why was she such a fucking mess?

Before she could say anything, though, he barreled on, almost heedless of the distress she was in. Distress of her own making.

"But before I go, I do have a few things to say to you. Things I think you need to hear. And maybe it's not my place, and I'll just make everything a thousand times worse. But I think I saw who you could be, Sansa. I caught glimpses of that woman over the past few days. And I'm not ready to give up on her."

She was stunned speechless. He wasn’t leaving. Not yet. And he was … it sounded like he was fighting for her.

She couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever said anything like that to her. She'd been blamed, yelled at, mocked, and pitied.

But Jaime sounded like he believed in her. She wasn't even sure she believed in herself. Somehow she found her voice, hope and fear and expectation and excitement all battling for supremacy inside her.

"After how I treated you, you deserve to have your say," she said softly.

He nodded, then paced the little kitchen, and she somehow found herself amused. He was such a wonder, a man that wore his emotions on his sleeve for anyone to see. She wondered if he even realized he did this when he was trying to gather his thoughts.

When he finally turned back towards her, when he stopped, his eyes pinned her, and she was locked onto him. She knew this was a pivotal moment in her life.

"Look, here's the thing. You will always win, Sansa. Always. You will always win the game of whose life is the shittiest or who got dealt the worst hand. It will never be a contest because what happened to you was awful. Truly, deeply, amazingly awful."

She felt the tears well in her eyes, then spill over. Gods, it felt good to have some stranger say that to her. To validate what she felt.

"But the thing is, I don't think that you want to be the person that only has that to cling to. I don't think you want Ben’s death to be what defines the rest of your life. I don’t think you want to be alone, living only in the past, bitter and miserable at everything and everyone even though you have every right to be fucking pissed at this world.”

She sucked in a sob, wondering how this man just got her. She was pissed at the world, at how unfair it all was. But gods, she hated that her entire life seemed to revolve around these two events.

"I don't know how not to be that person, Jaime." It was quite possibly the most honest thing she’d ever said to him. “I don’t know how to not be angry at everyone, and everything.”

Jaime walked over and took a seat at the kitchen table and it almost looked like he was going to reach for her, but stopped himself.

She saw Jaime soften, and he went to reach out, perhaps to cup her cheek, but at the last minute, pulled his hand back. She ached for his touch, not as a lover, not even as a potential, one day lover, but as a friend.

How long had it been since someone had offered her comfort with the expectation of nothing in return? It felt like years.

"I get that. I do. You have every right to be pissed the fuck off at the world. I'm pissed off for you, and Ben wasn't my son. I won't ever tell you not to be angry. Not ever."

The tears were just flowing now, down her face, making her eyes blurry.

This man!

And hearing her son’s name on his lips? It made Ben real, suddenly, on Skene. The pain and the hope lacerated her in equal parts.

Jaime came out of his chair and kneeled in front of her.

"But those glimpses I got of the other Sansa? The one who was joking with me, and made biscuits and talked about her love of books. Well, she didn't seem to be a woman that took joy in other people's pain. Just because you're going through hell, doesn't mean that other people aren't going through things, Sansa.”

She went to protest – to try to explain that her pain was so great that anyone else’s just paled in comparison to hers. She knew it made her a shitty person to not have any empathy, but she was so empty.

“And I know right now, like right this moment, you can't be there for someone else. I get that. My shoulders are broad enough to take your anger if that's what you need and to tell you to reign it in if you step over a line.”

"Jaime," she whispered, undone by him. She reached out and gripped his hand, holding onto him as if he were an anchor. Maybe he was. Maybe he was sent to her to see her through this storm. He squeezed back and his eyes seemed to see into her soul.

"I'm not diminishing or dismissing your pain, your journey. But fuck, this is life, right? It's messy and hard and painful. It's unfair. Holy shit is life unfair. But it can be good as well."

Sansa sat there in shock. No one ever spoke to her like this – blunt with a hearty dose of caring compassion. Because as much as she wanted to argue with Jaime, it was plain as day that he cared. It was all over his face. He would be there for her, helping her if she did misstep. And all she had to do was ask.

Everything he said was true.

She didn't want to be that woman – that angry, bitter, miserable woman.

"Why are you speaking to me this way?" she whispered, unsure what she wanted the answer to be.

He shrugged.

"I probably have no rights when it comes to you. I get it. I chose Cersei, and all that came with that. You could say I brought my pain on myself. You had no choice in your son getting sick. But that doesn't take away the pain I felt, Sansa. I've just been the road to recovery longer than you. And I can help you. If you'll let me."

"Why?"

Jaime frowned.

"Why what?" He looked confused. He looked adorable. That had to be a good sign, right?

Sansa waved a hand, feeling her emotions tearing at her. Hope, fear, excitement, anger. They were just all there, so close to the surface.

"Why fight for me? Why stay? Why try? Why be there for me? I've been awful to you, Jaime. I've judged you and yelled at you and run away from you. Why?"

She felt the bubble of emotion well up in her as if she were staring at a fork in the road.

Did she continue on this path alone?

Or did she take a chance and let someone in? Truly, all the way in? Was she willing to let someone help her?

Jaime knew so much about her, her secrets, her guilt.

He squeezed her hand, still kneeling in front of her.

"Because from what I can tell, and despite my epically bad choice to get involved with Cersei, I am a good judge of character. It's been a long time since someone fought for you, Sansa. Even if that means fighting _you_ , for you."

She thought she might melt right there in this little kitchen on Skene. No one had ever fought for her. Not really. Not Harry, not her family, not her friends. Sure, she’d pushed them away, but they’d let themselves be pushed.

Jaime was like a rock – immovable and unwilling to let her be alone.

She'd vilified this man. Sworn she'd never speak to him for as long as she lived here on this island. Made this past two months all about her – her pain, her hurt, her journey.

And yet, he was still here. Offering her friendship. Offering her something she'd hoped her husband would have. Offering her a future.

She heaved out a sob.

"Jaime… I'm such a mess."

He smiled, and it was like a light in the darkness, breaking through the last of the ice around her heart.

"Ahhh, don't you know? I love a good mess."

She gave a watery laugh. It certainly seemed like he wasn’t worried she’d cause him more misery.

"I've hurt people."

He nodded, not arguing with her. She liked how he didn’t sugarcoat things.

"You have. And I'll be there as you make amends."

"I've hurt you," she whispered.

He cocked his head. "Perhaps a bit, but not near as much as I think you believe. I can handle a lot, Sansa."

She shook her head. "Still, it's not right.”

She bit her lip.

“I'm sorry."

She meant it. Every word. She was sorry.

His eyes lit with happiness, and Sansa was stunned by his beauty. Their eyes held, and she wondered what women in their right mind would ever give this man up.

"Well, now, that wasn't so hard now was it."

He gave her a little wink and patted her knee as he rose and walked towards the counter to begin breakfast.

Sansa sat there, stunned by everything that had just happened. This man seemed too good to be true.

"Is this how you got through your scandal?"

He shrugged and turned back to look at her.

"I was mostly alone and angry. Angry at myself, at her, at anyone who tried to help me. Then I came here, and these people Sansa, well, they just don't give you a chance to be a miserable bastard."

She swallowed hard.

"What if I can't ever be happy, Jaime?"

His heart broke for her – this brave woman that had been through so much. He could see her struggling, see her trying. He'd never seen anything quite like her before.

"Well, one day at a time, right?"

She nodded, biting back a sob as he turned on the stove and set the bacon to fry. She watched as he whisked eggs, and heated a pan, and wondered for a moment at how easy it felt with him. Even with Harry, things had never quite been like this. Her and Jaime just fit.

When breakfast was on its way, he turned back to her, sipping at his coffee.

"You have to want to fight, Sansa. You have to want to believe that you'll find peace one day. Because if not? If you don't? The bitterness and the anger, the hurt - they'll win. They'll eat away at you, leaving nothing of who you were behind."

His words made sense. And her therapist had said them to her time and time again.

Did she want to be right, or did she want to be happy?

"I'm not the same person I was, Jaime."

He nodded, sagely as it were.

"I know. None of us ever are after we've gone through something so monumental. I can't even imagine how you've changed. But change isn't necessarily bad."

He shrugged again, and she found that one gesture he did so expressive.

She nodded, thinking that much was at least accurate - change didn't have to bad. The real issue was that this change was not something she'd chosen. It had been forced upon her. She hadn’t asked to be the young mom who spent more time in hospitals than in her own home. But she’d had no choice – she’d had to be his advocate.

She knew she wasn't the same person she was before Ben got sick. Just like she wasn't the same person before she got pregnant. And there was a part of Sansa that was proud of how she'd handled her son's illness. She knew she'd been a warrior for him.

So maybe Jaime was right. She would never be who she was, but something new didn't mean something bad.

"But why you? Why take me on? Surely you have better things to do with your time?"

Sansa wondered why she was pushing this so hard. He was here, and he was offering her a pathway forward. Why was she questioning him, his offer?

"Because if I don't, who will? From what I've seen, you've done a good job of pushing everyone else away. I'm just a stubborn bastard that didn't run away from your bark." Then he winked at her. “Or your bite.”

It was as simple as that for this man standing before her. She knew he felt it was his calling to serve, to help people. And now he was set to help her.

"Do you want to win the grief game, Sansa, or do you want to be at peace?" he asked, so quietly she almost didn't hear him. There was nothing was condescending in his tone, and he gave her a chance to think about that statement as he focused on breakfast for the two of them.

She rose and gazed outside the kitchen window, thinking of her promise to her son. She'd promised Ben she'd be happy – that she would try. She’d promised that she’d live for both of them. But was this living, what she’d been doing?

She knew, deep in her heart, that her son did not want his mama to be so unhappy. But it was so hard, trying to find that sliver of light, that bit of goodness in this world.

She didn't even realize she had her arms wrapped around her middle, shoulders hunched, as if she could keep all the bad things from hurting her.

Could she really do this? Could she really commit to making an effort? To work _with_ her grief instead of against it? Could she let go of some of the keen edges of anger and unfairness that plagued her?

"How do I find happiness in a world that takes an innocent child from his mother, Jaime? How?"

She turned back to him, curious as to what his answer might be. So far, she'd come up empty on that one.

"One day at a time."

When she said nothing, not satisfied with his answer, he sighed and said, "There are still good things in this world if you're willing to see them."

"Name one."

"Orcas, the summer solstice, Tormund's fireworks, Buttercup."

Sansa could feel herself begin to soften.

Gods, why couldn't she had met him before Harry?

What type of man named his favourite sheep?

Jaime did.

When she said nothing, he continued.

"Rainbows, walks on the beach, ancient ruins."

"Jaime," she said tenderly, intrigued. It said a lot about a man when asked what made him happy, he listed such simple pleasures. He'd made his point.

"The Samhain dance, Yule, friendship."

She chuckled as he kept going.

"Alright, I get it."

But he wasn't done, and Sansa stood in wonder at this man. How did a person who had their lives so thoroughly and blatantly upended become so good?

"Pufflings, Lyanna Snow’s laughter, Mayra's cinnamon buns."

He finally stopped when he saw tears were streaming down her face, but she didn't even notice them. She appreciated that he did nothing, just stood there as she worked some things out. After five minutes, when she'd pulled herself together, she finally raised her eyes to meet his, she saw nothing but the compassion that had been there from the start, staring back at her.

"Will you be my friend?"

He grinned.

"Of course."

"Will you show me the puffins?"

He seemed to take an excessive amount of joy in this request.

"Sansa, I'll show you anything you want."

His face was so open, so genuine in his offer, that she believed him. Every single word. Jaime would be her friend – even after she'd treated him so poorly.

Her eyes narrowed.

"And just for the record, my cinnamon buns are better than Mayra’s. Just saying.

Jaime grinned and smirked, saying, "Prove it. Prove your buns are better."

Sansa, while shocked, didn't deny the slow roll of lust that went through her.

Gods, the man was dangerous. She could see how it would be so easy to fall for him. Hell, his offer of friendship seemed like a port in a stormy sea.

And now he was teasing her? She hardly knew how to react. And they were talking about baked goods, right? Not her ass. Because oh god, she wasn't prepared for Jaime to think she had a great ass.

"What?" she sputtered.

"Prove it. Prove that your buns are better than hers."

Sansa's eyes narrowed.

"They take hours to make Jaime."

He shrugged.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She stood back, looking at him. She wondered if the people on Skene had any idea who he really was. He was a Lannister, compelling and successful in his own right, even without the family name behind him. And yet he was giving himself to her in a way that no one ever had – promising to be her support system with no guarantee of anything in return.

"You're not, are you? Going anywhere," she said, finishing her thought out loud. If Jaime said that he was going to do something, he'd follow through. He was that man, whose word meant something.

"Nope. So buns?" he asked, eyebrows wiggling, and Sansa threw caution to the wind, shaking her head and laughing at him.

"Alright, Jaime Lannister, let's make cinnamon buns."

It was incredible how easy Jaime was making this, how unconditional his forgiveness was. She might not deserve his friendship, but she sure as heck was going to take it.

“Breakfast first, buns later,” he said and Sansa nodded, going to refill their coffee cups and finding herself looking forward to the day when everything an hour ago had looked so bleak.

* * *

_ Winter Storm –Afternoon of Day 3: Jaime _

Watching Sansa smile, seeing her relax, catching these hints of the woman she must have been before her son's illness was enthralling.

It didn't hurt that she had done her makeup and taken the time to look her best. Jaime understood that she'd meant it to be a kind of mask, for she was beautiful without any of that stuff on her face. But with it? She was gorgeous. Of course her tears had wiped out a lot of her make up and now with no artificial stuff making her cheeks blush, she stole his breath.

She ate as if ravenous and then hummed as she did the dishes. Her gentle orders to him around the kitchen had him smiling. It was so easy to see her in the role of a mother now that he knew about Ben. It was so natural on her. Some women were meant for the whole wife and mother deal, and some, he'd learned quite painfully, were not.

With Cersei, it had always, always been about his name, his wealth, his status. Never about family unless family could do something for you. 

But Jaime knew that Sansa valued different things in life. Just because the world had taken her son didn't mean that deep down, she didn't have a mother's heart. And damn if he didn't find that attractive as hell.

Perhaps some might not understand why Jaime had been so easy and so quick to forgive Sansa. He didn't dismiss her behaviour towards him, but he understood now precisely where it came from. He'd spent the entire night wondering how she was even functioning.

The rage, the humiliation, the sheer desperation he'd felt when everything had happened with Cersei was so consuming, that it was hard to imagine what she was going through with the death of a child and the breakup of her marriage. It was almost incomprehensive, so he'd given her a break.

Jaime wasn't out to martyr himself for her, nor did he plan on being a doormat. But he didn't mind shouldering some of her fury if that helped her heal. He had broad shoulders and could handle it.

He hadn't expected her to respond as she had to his gentle probing this morning. He'd been fully prepared for her to ice him out, to ask him to leave her cottage and to hide upstairs until he was gone.

He was so proud of her that she hadn't, so thrilled that she'd taken a chance, delighted that she'd asked to be his friend.

As Jaime kneaded the soft dough, he managed to sneak a glance at her every few moments, liking how she was so relaxed and calm.

"So, give me the goods on the island residents," she said, her eyes dancing. She had another huge coffee cup, and he wondered how she wasn't vibrating from the amount of caffeine in her system.

"What do you want to know?"

"Hmmm. Well, what's up with Bronn and Ygritte?" Jaime noticed that Sansa wrinkled her nose in that adorable little way when she said the red head's name.

"Not a fan?"

"Nope." She popped her p.

Jaime shrugged. "Not sure. I think they like the drama, you know?"

Sansa shuddered. "Gods, that is not a type of relationship I want next time."

He couldn't help the little flare of hope in his heart as she spoke of her next relationship. Because that meant she was thinking about another relationship. He knew that he'd just gotten her to agree to be friends, but damn if that wasn't some hope soaring through him.

"No," he agreed softly. That type of drama was nothing he'd ever engage in again.

The next time Jaime fell in love, if he fell in love, the woman would have to be pretty special for him to risk his heart.

The dough was done and now resting, and they had migrated back to the living room. Jaime added to the fire, glancing outside. While it wasn't as stormy as before, the weather wasn't great. There hadn't been an update from Brienne, and he suspected they had a few hours before Sandor had the bridge repaired.

As they settled, Jaime saw Sansa grow pensive again. They were quiet for a time, both of them somehow comfortable with each other even when they didn't have much to say.

Finally, working up the courage, Jaime spoke.

"Ummm, I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about Ben, well…"

Her eyes darted to him, and he saw her startled, and for a moment, he worried he'd overstepped, that he'd undone all the progress they'd made. Just because he knew about Ben didn't mean she wanted to talk about him.

Sansa was silent, and he held his breath. He found himself desperately hoping she wanted to share Ben with him. Jaime got the impression that there weren't many people in her life that she was willing to share him with.

"You don't have to," he hastened to add, as the silence stretched.

She rose and then left the room without saying a word, and Jaime let his head fall back on the sofa.

Gods, he was an idiot. He just pushed. He pushed and pushed and pushed. And now she was gone. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, berating himself. That was who he was – always wanting more, wanting what he couldn't have.

Ben wasn't his.

Sansa wasn't his.

That's how he missed her returning, clutching a large scrapbook to her chest.

"Jaime?" she asked uncertainty there.

His eyes flew open to see her standing there, worry on her face.

Hope bloomed. She'd come back.

"Hi," he said softly. "What's that?"

She glanced down at the book. "It's a scrapbook. Were you umm … were you serious when you said you wanted to know about Ben?"

Jaime could see the vulnerability on her face and knew how monumental a step was for her. This was her heart, her entire world. And she was standing there as if she thought he might reject her. He could see it plain as day on her face.

"I was." His voice was gentle, and he patted the couch.

She hurried over and sat beside him, and Jaime couldn't help but inhale the smell of her shampoo – something floral and light. There was a brief moment when Jaime wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he held back. That would be crossing a line.

As much as Jaime wanted to watch her as she shared this massive part of her life with him, he was instantly drawn to the pictures. Pictures of a little boy who had left this world too soon. Jaime wanted to rage that such things happened and to good people.

"My sister made this book," she said softly, her hands tracing over a smiling toddler on the front who was cuddled up against Sansa. It was clear how deep the bond was between mother and son. "She'd never admit how artsy she is, but she is wonderful at this stuff."

She was quiet for a moment and then glanced at him. He could see the grief, waring with pride. And love. So much love. His heart ached, literally ached for her.

"He's beautiful, Sansa."

She beamed at him. "He was such a good baby. So easy and happy."

Jaime felt his own eyes begin to well up, for everything this woman had been through. For the pain of losing a child far too soon. 

"We were lucky that he was the first grandchild. Everyone always took so many pictures of him that … afterwards, I had so many to choose from."

It was these little things, Jaime realized, that were so important to her. She had a million pictures of her son. He was glad for that. 

"I'm so glad, Sansa."

Sansa nodded, lost in her own world.

"He was my entire world," she said softly, even though it was clear as day to Jaime how much he meant to her.

He realized there was very little he needed to say, other than just being present as she shared her son's short life with him. It was a privilege to be part of this journey with her.

Halfway through the book, which had been so lovingly done, she shuddered out a huge sob. Within a moment, she pressed herself against his shoulder and was shaking. He gently took the scrapbook and placed it on the coffee table, and then wrapped his arms around her.

She wept, great heaping gulps and shook as Jaime rocked her, saying nothing.

It was a purge like a valve had been released, and she just couldn't contain it any longer.

So Jaime held her as she cried and then tucked her against him after she'd worn herself out and fell asleep on him. Jaime didn't mind that his arm was numb, or that she was so out of it she was drooling on him. He'd hold her for as long as she'd let him because nothing had ever felt as right in his life as having her in his arms.

As she slept, Jaime's mind raced.

He thought of the pictures Sansa had shared, the life she'd had with her son. It was clear he was the center of her world, and even when sick, she'd moved mountains to make his life meaningful.

There were little moments that Jaime had to hold back his tears – like when she'd dressed Ben up for Halloween, even though he'd trick or treated through the hospital. There were Christmas photos, again, in the hospital, and so many with her family. It was clear that Ben was a well-loved child.

There were very few pictures of her husband, and it seemed like the burden of Ben's illness had fallen to her. Because Sansa was always there and Harry was more than often, not.

 _What man did that to his family?_ Jaime thought.

But then, he'd been involved with Cersei, so he had a first-hand view of parents that didn't put their children first. It made his affair with her feel even viler. He hated that he'd been part of all of that, and selfishly he pined for the missed chance to have his own family. Even with the pain, Sansa had gone through, Jaime figured it would be worth it to have even a minute with a child of his own.

It was hours later when Jaime heard something outside the cottage. Sansa had snuggled down into his arms as he'd shifted as he heard the little bleat.

Buttercup!

That must mean that Sandor had fixed the bridge. Jaime nudged Sansa, watching as she woke up, blinking and rubbing at her eyes. She wiped at her mouth, blushed when she realized where she'd fallen asleep.

Then another bleat, this one angrier sounding and Jaime and Sansa laughed.

"I think she's mad at me," Sansa said, a giggle escaping her lips. They went to the front door and opened it to see Buttercup ready to ram her head into it.

She practically danced when she spotted Jaime, pushing her way into the cottage and butting up against him. Laughing, Jaime scratched at her ears and reassured her that he was fine. Her bleats calmed down until she spotted Sansa.

Never in all his days would Jaime have ever thought a farm animal might give someone side-eye, but Buttercup was.

"Oh, enough," Jaime chided her gently. "Sansa needed help, and it wasn't her fault I was trapped out here."

Sansa shook her head at the two of them, when Sandor appeared, massive, in the doorway.

Jaime didn't miss a thing as he observed the big man. He was rubbing his neck and looking decidedly guilty. Knowing that he'd need to follow up on that later, Sandor stepped inside and took a seat at the kitchen table, while Sansa made a fresh pot of coffee and cut up some brownies.

Over coffee and dessert, Sandor told them how the island had faired. There was still no power to a significant portion of the island, but everyone was doing fine. The village had come back online first, and some of the businesses were opening back up.

"Brienne and Pod held down the fort," Sandor said, sending a look to Jaime. "Sorry, but they are exhausted. The big woman won't admit it, but they need a break."

The man looked between Sansa and Jaime, noting how much the tension had lessened between the two of them.

Sansa nodded. "You go, Jaime. I'll probably come into town tomorrow, with fresh cinnamon buns to check on the library."

There was a part of Jaime that was worried she was pushing him away, but her soft smile reassured him that wasn't the case. She seemed to understand how important his job was to him, so he nodded and gathered his things. He heard Sandor ask how she was and was pleased when Sansa told him the weekend had been 'cathartic.'

Sandor and Buttercup left first, giving Jaime a few minutes alone with her.

He was a bit unsure of what to say, hoping this new friendship held. He understood how sometimes it was a few steps forward and then several back and he wouldn't blame her in the least for retreating at least slightly. The weekend had been heavy for both of them.

Instead, she surprised him by stepping forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and squeezing his hand.

"Thank you, Jaime. For everything."

Too stunned, he could do nothing more than nod.

Then she gave a mischievous little grin, and he felt himself fall. "I'll be by tomorrow for you to compare buns."

Unable to help himself, he laughed and shook his head.

"Don't be a stranger, Sansa."

"I won't. And thank you again. My first storm on Skene."

Reluctantly, he stepped back and out into the late afternoon gloom. "Be sure to check your generator and call if you need anything."

She was leaning against the doorway, and for the first time since he'd seen her, she appeared at peace.

"I will. But I'll be fine."

He nodded and realized that he believed her.

Somehow, Sansa Stark was going to be okay.

She was going to fight for her future.

And he hoped like hell, and she'd let him be by her side as she did because there was nowhere else Jaime wanted to be.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Why yes, Jaime did see Sandor's 'guilt' face! Will she make the buns? Will she shy away from friendship, or will Sansa take a chance?
> 
> And what happens when Jaime susses out what the meddlers tried to do?


	11. After the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa begins to make amends

* * *

[Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/621375532522668032/love-this)

* * *

_ Post Storm – Jaime  _

Jaime was in deep thought as he followed Sandor back down the now icy, mucky track towards the temporary bridge and up towards his farmstead.

When they stopped outside his house, the big man could hardly look Jaime in the eyes, which was when Jaime knew something was up with his friend.

Exhaustion nipped at him, though, and he knew he'd need to relieve Pod and Brienne, so he said nothing, merely thanking him for the rescue and getting Sandor's assurance he would check the bridge every few hours and let Jaime know immediately if anything went wrong.

Sandor promised he would, vehemently, and Jaime knew that he'd watch over her.

It was difficult to leave Sansa. It was not because Jaime worried that she couldn't take care of herself – she'd more than proven her grit, strength, and determination. He was reluctant to leave because he'd liked how she'd started to let him in.

Finding out all these little parts to her was like a puzzle – a very complex and intriguing one.

He drove on autopilot until he was at the station, through an eerily dark village. He could see that only parts of the village had power restored, and the station was thankfully one of them. That meant he'd at least get a warm shower. He grabbed his go bag and walked inside, seeing Pod startle awake from the seat where he'd fallen asleep.

Jaime glanced at his watch and saw it was approaching 5 pm and knew that Pod had to have been going for hours.

"Jaime!" he cried happily, stumbling to his feet.

Jaime smiled and embraced his co-worker.

"Where's Brienne?"

"I sent her home. Tormund needed her help, and we heard from Sandor that you were on your way. She was gassed."

Nodding, Jaime soon got Pod on his way, the young man eager to fill him in on everything that happened, but way too exhausted to do so.

"Bronn dropped off some stew and bread," Pod mumbled, before hurrying outside and toward Wyn's little house. It was rare that Jaime's upstairs roommate was home these days.

Settling into his chair, Jaime read through the reports, heated some dinner, and was unable to help himself reach for the radio.

"Sansa? Sansa do you copy?"

There was no answer for a moment, and Jaime wondered if she were already asleep. It was just past 8 pm, and he knew both of them were knackered.

"Ja - - e?" crackled back.

Jaime smiled. She wasn't holding the button down long enough before she spoke, and it was breaking up.

"How are you?" he asked, kicking his feet up on the desk, looking at his feet.

Huh. His socks didn't match. He wondered how long that had gone on and then shrugged. Things like that hardly mattered to him.

"– 'm good. Did lots of baking," she told him, and he swore he could hear her the happiness and pride in her voice.

"That's wonderful, but you know now that I have to taste test. Not fair to tease a man that way," he said jokingly.

He wasn't quite sure if she would follow through on her agreement to come to town the next day.

"Oh, I do, do I?"

Pleased as punch by her answer, he grinned.

"You betcha."

"Well, maybe tell Brienne and Pod I may have gone a bit overboard. I'll pop by the station around 10 am tomorrow and then go see what the damage is like at the library."

More excited than he wanted to admit that she was coming into town, Jaime told her he'd have the others around to try her baking.

"You know, though, that if it's bad, we're gonna have to tell everyone."

She laughed. "You wouldn't dare!"

He chuckled. "Sansa, I can barely boil water, although living on Skene has forced me to do better. I'm sure it will be great."

With that, they signed off, and Jaime found himself bored and thinking of his past.

He'd always subscribed to the theory that he had been in love with Cersei since the moment he'd first met her – almost something that happened instantaneously. He'd grown up on the story of how his father had fallen for his mother upon first seeing her, and he'd fancied himself the same as the great Tywin Lannister.

But now, if he were genuinely critical about Cersei, he could see how much had been missing in their relationship. 

He'd always wanted a great love, the kind found in romance novels and those sappy movies he'd watched. And examining what he'd had with Cersei, he realized that he'd settled, even when he'd told himself that they were 'destined.'

He snorted at that thought now. Destined. What the hell did that mean?

Watching Sansa in the kitchen, puttering around her cottage, seeing how they had worked as a team, had opened his eyes to the next type of serious relationship he wanted. He wanted a woman that loved him for him – that wanted to build a home, a family, a life with him. Not someone that only saw the surface.

With great love and significant loss on his mind, Jaime glanced at the clock. It was late, but his father was almost always up at this hour, either in his study or in bed. The man made a point of reading a book a day and often spent his evenings doing so. Making his choice, he dialled the Great Lion's private line.

"Jaime," Tywin's voice rumbled across the line. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Had he ever realized how much his father loved him? Jaime wondered as he cleared his throat.

Sure, Tywin was a difficult man, a hard man. But seeing Sansa pour all her love into her son, Jaime had understood just how much Tywin had been in his corner when everything went down with Cersei. It was what a parent did.

Hell, long before that, the Great Lion had stood up for Jaime.

Jaime knew his father had taken a lot of heat, 'allowing' Jaime to become a police officer, and even though Tywin had pushed back, when Jaime had put his foot down, his father had supported him.

And it wasn't just Sansa's love for Ben that had opened Jaime's eyes.

Seeing her grieve, Jaime now recognized what his father had gone through all those years ago when his mother had died. Jaime had been eight when cancer had taken his Mom, Tyrion four. And his father had become a different man overnight. As a child, Jaime had never understood how deeply the death of a beloved person could affect someone.

"I'm sorry about Mom," Jaime said softly, hearing his father suck in a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never understood how hard losing her was for you."

Tywin didn't say anything at first.

Lannisters did not talk about their feelings, and Jaime had just kicked that door wide open. He wondered if his father was going to freeze him out or if this might help them both.

"She was the love of my life," Tywin finally said, the words direct and straightforward.

_The love of his father's life._

Tywin never dated, never remarried, never did anything to dishonour that love he’d felt for Joanna and Jaime felt he understood his father better, now.

Jaime had thought that what he’d had with Cersei was what his father had had with his mother. Hell, he'd given himself 'permission' for the affair based on that idea.

But seeing Sansa, looking back on his father, seeing such unconditional, devoted caring, he knew that Cersei had not been the love of his life. That type of love has to be reciprocal and theirs, as painful as it was to admit, was not.

"I know. I mean, I know now, what that means, Dad. I'm sorry it took me this long to get it."

Tywin coughed, and Jaime squirmed a bit. This felt good, but odd as if neither man was quite sure where they stood now that these feelings were out in the open.

"What brought this on, Jaime? That wretched woman hasn't contacted you, has she?"

Jaime rumbled out a no.

"I actually have no idea what is going on in her life, to be honest. I've kept myself cut off from the gossip of King's Landing."

The pregnant paused had Jaime wondering what his father wasn't telling him. But whereas before Jaime would have been a mess even to hear Tywin speak of Cersei, now he almost felt sorry for her.

“What is it, Dad?” Better to hear it from Tywin than some random person who was out to hurt him.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Jaime shrugged, even knowing his father couldn't see it. "Yeah, better to know than to be in the dark."

Tywin sighed, and Jaime could almost imagine him rubbing at that spot between his eyes. It seemed like he'd done that regularly when Jaime had been younger. Jaime knew he hadn't made life easy for his father after his mother had died, but he'd been a child, and the loss was significant. All three of them had just been a mess.

"Robert is making a bid for senator."

The quiet in Tywin's voice meant Jaime knew his father suspected this news would send Jaime into a rage.

Instead, all he could do was sputter and laugh.

"And let me guess? Everything has been forgiven and forgotten in the Baratheon marriage," Jaime said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Christ, what a bunch of fucking hypocrites," he snarled.

He hated the fake-ness of it all, the bullshit 'image' that they presented and the fact that people ate it up.

There was a weariness to Tywin's voice when he spoke.

"Steffon is a powerful man. He apparently read Robert the riot act and refused to allow them to divorce. We've always known the man has his eye on Westeros' presidency – even if he has to go through his son to get it. I'm sorry."

Jaime waved a hand.

"Don't be, Dad. Honestly. I'm over it and her. They deserve one another."

"I truly am sorry, Jaime. I know you cared for her."

Left unsaid was how much Tywin now despised the entire Baratheon clan for the humiliation that they'd heaped upon Jaime. Jaime knew his father hated that he'd been 'banished' to Skene, while Robert and Cersei had apparently carried on unscathed. It was incredible what money could make disappear – even the accusations of kickbacks. Jaime briefly wondered how Robert had squirmed out of that mess. Then he realized he didn’t care at all.

"No, Dad, I'm sorry. I should never have started anything with her. Look, I know I'm not the man you wanted me to be. I know I'm a disappointment. I know I've let you down in more ways than we can even count. But I'm done with her and them. I'm over it, Dad. This place has been good for me."

"Jaime, you've never been a disappointment," came Tywin's quiet rebuttal. "Not ever, son."

Suddenly, Jaime didn't give a single crap about Cersei. Warmth spread through Jaime upon hearing those words – that acceptance from his father.

"I just wanted what you and Mom had. I just wanted that great love."

"When it's time, the person you're meant to be with will come into your life, Jaime."

For a brief moment, Jaime thought of Sansa humming softly as they made the dough for her buns. He was pretty sure the right person had come into his life – whether or not she was ready for him was an entirely different matter. But even if he only ever could admire her from afar, even if they only ever were friends, it would be enough if he could help her heal.

"Yeah." Jaime took a deep breath. "Yeah, Dad, you're right. Ummm, hey, I have to run, but keep in touch. The offer is still open to come and visit."

Tywin snorted and Jaime grinned, trying to picture Tywin on Skene.

"Take care, Jaime."

"Love you, Dad," Jaime said, thinking about Sansa and how important those words were to a parent. He could tell he’d startled his father, but in a good way.

"I love you, Jaime."

When they hung up, Jaime just sat there in the dark, thinking about his life. Even if nothing ever happened with Sansa, she was changing him, changing how he viewed things. She was worth the risk, and he hoped like hell, for her sake, that she worked up the courage to continue on this journey.

Because Jaime knew he'd be with her every step of the way. If there was even a chance at happiness with her, Jaime was going to risk everything to go for it. Sansa was worth the potential heartache she might bring. He knew that unequivocally and walked into this with his eyes wide open, only a hope and a prayer that she might feel the same one day. But for now, it was enough. For now, it was everything. And that was a future Jaime was willing to bet on, no matter how uncertain it might be.

* * *

_ Post Storm – Sansa  _

After Jaime left, Sansa made a point to go back to the living room where he had mainly lived for the past few days. She saw Ben's scrapbook sitting on the coffee table and wondered at the depth of a man that was willing to hold a woman while she cried over her dead child.

The weekend had been heavy, cathartic and exhausting.

And despite all of that, she felt lighter, as if some unknown weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She tidied up after Jaime, and perhaps she might have sniffed the blanket that had used and then put it on her bed, folded up, she went back to the kitchen to make the buns.

She had two very different recipes and hummed about which one to use.

One was very traditional, although she didn't use cream cheese icing instead choosing a vanilla or maple glaze icing.

The other recipe had no icing but pecans inside.

Deciding that something a bit different was in order since she could at least admit she wanted to wow Jaime with her baking skills, she set her radio and began to make the buns. She spent the next few hours preparing not only her pecan toffee cinnamon buns but also a hearty potato and bacon soup, and some cheddar buns.

If she were going to begin to make amends in Skene, she'd feed people – beginning with Jaime's co-workers at the station and Sandor.

She didn't delude herself that this temporary burst of both happiness and creatively would last, perhaps not even that much longer than the afternoon and evening. But if she made all this food, even if she woke up sad or angry tomorrow, it would give her a reason to attempt to be social.

It was a small goal, but one that felt attainable and made her proud of herself for setting it.

She felt like she had a safety net since Jaime said he would be there – to help her and be her friend.

She'd baked up a storm by the time she was done, and she'd added some classic chocolate chip cookies to the menu and then went outside to refuel the generator. She'd kept her peat fire going all afternoon, and even though it was now March, it was dark by 5 pm.

She ate a bowl of soup, a bun, and indulged in one cookie before she did a final tidy up of her cottage and ran a warm bath.

Sansa lit a few candles, added the goats' milk bubble bath that Jon and Val sold and then let her mind drift.

Funnily enough, she didn't think about Ben, in much more than a glancing fashion she assumed how most mothers thought about their children.

Tonight she was not fixated on her son. Tonight she was occupied with thoughts of her ex-husband.

She had gone to Oldtown with dreams and visions in her head of her 'perfect' man, and when she'd run into Harry, she'd easily slotted him into that space.

She hadn't dated, hadn't played the field, hadn’t seen what other men might be out there.

Hell, she'd taken one look at the handsome man from the Vale, decided he must be _the one_ and allowed herself to fall in love with him. Head over heels, stupidly and blindly in love with him.

Even when her parents and her friends had expressed concerns over how fast they were moving, Sansa had barged ahead so determined that Harry had to be the man of her dreams.

She'd been an idiot and missed so many warning signs in their relationship.

Not that she could ever regret it because it had given her Ben, and her son was worth it. Gods, he was worth it.

When the tears spilled over, she wiped them away, a light dawning.

"He was worth it. All the pain, all the heartache, even how much this hurts, my son was worth it," she whispered to herself.

She tried to think what her life might have been like, had she never met Harry, had they never dated, never moved in together.

Even with how painful it was, to not have her son by her side, Sansa realized that she would never give up the time she had with him to spare herself this pain.

Nor would she ever make a different choice, because as crummy as her marriage had been, Harry had given her Ben. He might have been an absent father and an even worse husband, but he'd given her Ben.

And that she wouldn't trade for anything in the world, no matter how much hurt that brought and miserable she was.

When the water had cooled, and she'd dried herself off, she dressed in her warmest flannel pyjamas and then smiled when the radio crackled to life with Jaime checking on her.

It wasn't something condescending like he thought she couldn't take care of herself, but friendly. Neighbourly.

And she laughed at his eagerness to taste her baking. Sansa hadn't been lying to Jaime when she'd told him that Harry had never liked it when she'd done those things. It felt good to have someone appreciate her efforts.

She also realized how much she'd missed the easy friendships she'd been so good at in Oldtown. While she might not be ready for the entire 'Val Show' yet, Sansa was hoping that she could win Brienne and Pod to her side and show her appreciation for Sandor's hard work with the bridge tomorrow.

That was enough – it was a start and more than she'd had in a very long time. And while she knew the ball was in her court when it came to improving her life, it sure felt good to have Jaime as her champion, in her corner, cheering her on.

* * *

The next morning the sun was shining, and Sansa found herself humming as she gathered the food for Jaime and his friends – maybe her friends.

It was exciting to think of these new possibilities, and she felt less lonely, knowing that Jaime knew about Ben. She'd even brought one of her favourite pictures of him down and put it on the mantle above the fireplace.

When she was fully packed and ready to go, she sang a little as she drove to Sandor's place. She saw him first, his large frame impossible to miss as he was feeding the chickens. Buttercup was with him, and an idea dawned on her as she parked her little vehicle.

"Little bird," he said, glancing over at her. "Everything ok?"

Sansa wondered if he had any idea what a good friend he was. She felt safe having him as her closest neighbour to look out for her.

"Hey, Sandor. Hi Buttercup. I just wanted to bring you a thank you gift."

She all but shoved the box she'd stuffed full of food at him. For a moment, she thought he looked almost guilty, but then it was gone as he stared down in wonder at all the food.

"Cinnamon buns, cookies, soup and fresh buns," she listed off and watched as a look of wonder came across his face.

"Thanks, but you don't have to do this. I was just being neighbourly."

He looked a little shocked at her offering, so she waved her hand.

"It was nothing, and you were awesome. Also, I was wondering if Buttercup might want to come with me today. I'm going to visit Jaime at the station and then to the library. She can hang out."

The sheep, upon hearing Jaime's name, bleated. Up until this point, she'd seemed to be studiously avoiding Sansa. Now the sheep was almost dancing beside Sansa, who was shaking her head at her.

"You really are kind of cute."

Sandor just shook his head and went to find her harness and leash.

“You sure you want her?”

“Yup,” Sansa said, determined to do this.

"Once she sees Jaime, she'll be fine. But if you have any issues, just let me know, and I'll figure something out."

"Oh, I think we'll be fine, won't we, Buttercup," Sansa said to her.

The sheep didn't quite look like she wanted to be Sansa's best friend, but she was at least standing there nicely as they got her hooked up and into Sansa's vehicle.

"Drive safe," Sandor cautioned. "The roads are shit."

"I will. I should be home later afternoon. Thanks again," Sansa said, giving a little toot of her horn and then waving, missing the look of guilt that rolled across Sandor's face.

When she was gone, the big man hurried inside and phoned Jon, confessing that he was sure that Jaime had figured something was up and that the guilt was eating him alive.

"But she seemed ok?" Jon asked, somewhat anxiously.

"Yeah," Sandor mumbled. He coughed. "Yeah, they seemed better. Nicer to one another as if they were friends now. Don't know what the fuck happened, but it seemed to work."

Both Jon and Sandor were silent. They were happy that Jaime and Sansa were now speaking to one another, but neither man liked the roll they had played, and both felt the guilt nipping at their heels.

Sansa putted along slowly, feeling like she was seeing Skene for the first time. There were parts of the island that still seem so wild and untamed, and she liked that. The storm hadn't been pleasant, and there were a few moments where the wind almost felt like it was about to sweep her cottage away, but by and large, she was proud at how she'd weathered it.

She thought this would be an ideal location for raising a family – safe and loving, warm and inclusive. The school, while small had excellent teachers, and the life experience of being part of such a community would be fantastic for a child.

Perhaps had Ben lived, this might have been somewhere they might have ended up. Not with Harry, since her ex would never be caught dead in such a place, but together, just the two of them. Ben would have loved to have animals, and Sansa found herself talking to Buttercup about her son.

Sansa had no idea when it changed, but suddenly Buttercup was bleating softly, almost in sympathy it felt like as Sansa told her all about her son.

"He'd have loved you. I could just imagine his laughter when he'd spot you driving along with me. He'd say, _"Mama sheeps don’t belong in Jeeps.”_

Sansa gave a watery laugh as she felt Buttercup's nose bump her shoulder. 

"He loved rhymes. And I'm sure you would have loved him. He was so kind and sweet."

Sansa didn't mind the tears as she spoke of Ben – they felt healing, and it felt nice to speak to someone about Ben, even if that someone was a sheep.

Since the power hadn't been restored to the entire island, the school was still closed, so as Sansa passed Jeyne Poole's little cottage, she made a snap decision to pull into her driveway, bumping down the long driveway.

Jeyne was close to town, only about five minutes away, and Sansa knew that Jeyne made sweaters that were unique to Skene. They were 100% pure wool but could be washed and had none of that scratchy feel so many did. It was something to do with how she processed the wool, and Sansa saw that almost everyone on Skene had one. Even though Jeyne only sold them during the summer months, she always kept a few on hand for island residents during the winter.

Deciding it was time to put her new goals about friendship to the test, Sansa cut the engine and looked down at her food stash. She had a copious amount of cinnamon buns and figured she could bribe her way back into Jeyne's good graces with some sugary carbs.

Sansa, Buttercup and a plate of baked goods were standing on the other side of the door when Sansa knocked, and Jeyne opened it.

Jeyne looked shocked, then shy, then confused.

"Sansa? Is everything alright?" She had a teacher's voice, both comforting with a hint of command in it, and Sansa flushed, thrusting the buns towards her.

"I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. Please forgive me."

At first, Sansa thought Jeyne wasn't going to do so, for she appeared at a loss for words. Then a smile bloomed across her face, and she stepped back, inviting Sansa inside.

"Come in," she said, and Buttercup happily trotted inside, as Sansa followed.

"Why do you have Sandor's sheep?" Jeyne asked, frowning.

Sansa blushed again.

"Well, he fixed the bridge to my cottage, so I stopped by to bring him a thank you gift. Since I was bringing food to Jaime, Brienne and Pod, I decided she might want to visit him … them. All of them. I mean, Jaime, but the others as well."

Sansa's mouth clamped shut, and she felt like an idiot. But Jeyne only nodded as if her random babblings made sense.

"Also, I wanted to see your sweaters," she blurted out.

Jeyne laughed.

"Alright, take a deep breath and let's clear the air.”

Sansa nodded, heart pounding. She really wasn’t great at confrontations.

“I'm sorry for what happened at Book Club. Trust me when I say Jaime let us have it. I was sorry for not telling Ygritte to be nicer, and I know what it feels to be an outsider. The women are close and in each other's business all the time. We sort of don't even realize what we're sometimes doing."

By now, the two women had made their way to the kitchen, which was remarkably similar to Sansa's.

Sansa sighed and then propped a hip up against a counter.

"Look, it wasn't just you guys. I have some stuff that I'm working through. I'm not sure what kind of friend I can be – hell, I'm not even sure I deserve anyone's forgiveness. But my reaction was over the top. I know that."

Jeyne nodded, seemingly pleased with how things were progressing.

"There's no pressure Sansa. Not from me. I'm quiet. I like to read and knit and make sweaters. Sometimes, after teaching all day, I don't even want to see another person, let alone be social. I'm not outgoing like Val and Dacey, and I'm not brave like Brienne. I'm not a flirt like Ygritte, and Wyn is so smart and so talented. I'm just Jeyne. And I'd like to be your friend. Whatever that means, even if we take it day by day."

Sansa felt she'd found a kindred spirit in this woman in front of her, and she brushed back tears. She was so kind and forgiving.

"I've had a tough time these past few years. It's been a long time since I've made a new friend. Since I've allowed myself a new friend. I'm not sure I'll be any good at it."

Jeyne shrugged and laid a soft hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"This is a good start."

Sansa brushed back the tears and gave a smile. "I hope so."

Then she glanced at her watch and saw the time and swore.

"Crap. I told Jaime I'd be there by 10 am. I have to go. Thanks for not thinking I'm crazy. Or if you do, taking a chance on me anyways."

Jeyne just laughed and told her not to be a stranger. “When you have time, come back and we’ll find a sweater for you.”

Agreeing, Sansa waved at Jeyne.

Once again, back in her vehicle, Sansa felt proud of what she'd done. She'd reached out to someone, almost a stranger really, and tried. Maybe she was still destined to be the worst friend ever, but she'd tried.

High on her success, Sansa waved at people she passed as she entered the village, pleased when they smiled and waved back at her. Perhaps this wasn't quite so hard as she had imagined. Maybe Jaime was right that these people were accepting and forgiving.

As they got closer to the little police station, Buttercup danced in her seat, and Sansa laughed at her.

"You really do love him, don't you?" she murmured.

She was barely parked when the door to the station opened, and Jaime was there. The smile on his face warmed Sansa, in ways she wasn't quite ready to examine.

There was no denying that he was a handsome man – and when he looked at her like that? She felt like the most important person in his life. It was scary. It was exhilarating.

And yet, as if he knew she was only ready for his friendship, he never pushed anything with her, which she was grateful. She felt like one of those newborn foals, wobbly on her legs and not quite knowing if the ground would support her.

It was like she was having to relearn how to live – at twenty-eight years old.

"Hi," he called out and then opened the door for Buttercup, who was bleating excitedly at seeing Jaime.

"Hi. Want to help?"

Jaime frowned as he rounded her vehicle and looked in the back, seeing the mountains of food there.

"Sansa, what's this?"

She shrugged.

"I like to cook, and you like to eat. Besides, I owe you a huge thank you."

She didn't say for what, because quite honestly, she didn't know what she was thanking Jaime for. The list seemed endless.

Not leaving her during the storm? Well, of course.

Planting himself like a tree and refusing to give up on her? Yup.

Igniting something deep inside her that reminded her that her life wasn't over? Sansa wasn't sure that all the cinnamon buns in the world could thank someone for that.

"It was my pleasure," Jaime said, sincerity ringing his tone.

She smiled at him, and for a moment, they were caught up, standing close to one another, just grinning like fools at one another.

Then Buttercup bumped into Jaime, and the moment was gone, as Jaime helped her bring the feast into the station. Pod and Brienne were there, looking rested and content as Sansa said hello to them.

"Peace offering," she said, holding up some of her baking. Both of them appeared to be appreciative of her gesture.

She went to their little break room and plugged in the crockpot that held the soup and then plated some of the goodies while the three officers stood there practically drooling.

"Sansa, this is amazing," Pod said, eagerly eyeing up her baking.

"Well, go on, help yourself," she told him and smiled as all three began to dig into the treats.

Sansa grabbed a coffee cup and sat with the three of them for a time, noting how close they were. Jaime might think his 'duty' was down in King's Landing, and she understood that.

But he had something special here as well. He’d been banished here but had made a real effort with those he worked with and those he served.

Pod hero-worshiped him, and Brienne was a good friend to him. They all joked and laughed in a way that reminded Sansa of the time with her roommates in Oldtown, that comfort and ease with people you knew had your back. If Jaime ever did decide to stay, Sansa knew he would have a place here on Skene.

After a time, when they were all busy with each other, she slipped out and walked to Jaime's office and opened up her phone, finding Marg's number. Sansa had ignored her former best friend and her brother's wife since Ben had died. It was too painful to see what Marg had that Sansa didn't anymore.

But now, she thought she might try to repair what death and divorce and sheer misery had broken.

Dialling, Sansa wasn't even sure that Marg would pick up. It had been so long since Sansa had made any type of effort with her.

Of course, two rings in, and she did, and Sansa bit back the sob, hearing Marg’s voice.

"Sansa? Is everything alright, hun? Did something happen?" came Marg's worried voice over the line.

Sansa heaved in a sob, and blurted out, "I'm so sorry I wasn't happier about your pregnancy."

Silence greeted her outburst, and Sansa began to regret her impulsive choice. Perhaps she’d done too much damage, which was understandable. After all, she’d fled Wintertown upon hearing about the pregnancy.

"Ok, well, this is awkward. Anyways, I'm just …"

"Sansa, stop," Marg ordered softly.

Sansa’s mouth clamped shut.

Marg sighed.

"Look, I can't blame you. I hated me as well. Fuck, San, I knew what you went through with Ben, and I knew Harry was a dick. And here I was, falling in love with Robb and now pregnant as your whole world collapsed. I never…. I didn't…. Fuck …"

Silence. Neither woman knew how to make this ‘better.’

"Look, we didn't get pregnant to hurt you, even though I knew it would. It sucks because you were my best friend and our kids were going to be cousins and now Ben is gone and you're living at the ends of the earth, and you fucking hate me, and I don't know how to fix anything between us. And I don’t blame you because your son died and that is so awful and my child will never know their cousin, and it’s all such a nightmare.”

Marg was sobbing, and Sansa was shaking. She realized she'd been unprepared to deal with this – that she should have thought this out more. Turning, she saw Jaime standing against the doorway. There was no criticism on his face, no judgment- just support.

Sansa took a deep breath, locking eyes with him as she spoke again. What was it about him that made her feel brave? Like she could conquer her demons?

"Look, Marg. I am sorry. And I'm not quite ready to be there for you guys. That sounds awful, I know. I know what type of person that makes me because that's my niece or nephew you're…."

"Niece," Marg interrupted. "Ummm, we found out a few days ago. She is your niece Sansa."

Sansa bit back a sob. "Oh. Oh… well." She paused, rolling that information around, finding it didn’t hurt quite so much. She had been deathly afraid Marg would have a son. "Does it make me a horrible person that I'm glad it's not a boy?"

Marg gave a watery laugh. "Nope. Well, maybe. But I love you even when you're a horrible person."

Sansa nodded through her tears.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm ready for, Marg when it comes to you and Robb. There is a part of me that's happy that you found one another. I am. But…" Sansa sighed. "But I'm just not sure what I'm ready for when it comes to a new baby in the Stark clan."

"That's alright. That's fair."

More silence.

"How is Skene?" Marg asked, and Sansa could practically see her former best friend and now sister in law wrinkle her nose. Wintertown was a stretch for Marg. Skene would be out of the question.

"It's good. Interesting."

"That's good."

Jaime gave her a thumbs-up, and Sansa shook her head at him.

"Ummm, well, I have to go. But, maybe we could, I don't know, text one another. I mean, only if you want to," Sansa offered.

"I'd like that. Would you like to see the ultrasound, or is that too much?" Marg asked quietly.

Sansa bit her lip, thinking about it.

Marg was carrying a girl, her niece. This child would not replace Ben. Logically Sansa knew no one ever would, but it had been one of those fears she’d had that she’d been afraid to vocalize. And it had been a hard fear to face – another boy grandson for her parents, only this one wouldn’t get sick and die.

And even through her own pain, Sansa realized at that moment that she'd never want anyone to go through what she had. She wanted Marg and Robb's daughter to be healthy and to be loved. And someday, she wanted to be part of that child's life when she was stronger maybe, further along in her grief journey.

"Yeah. Yes, I think I'd like that."

"Awesome," Marg almost whispered, and Sansa knew how much she'd hurt her, even if it wasn't intentional. "I'll send it over now. Don't be a stranger, Sansa. I miss you."

With that, Marg hung up, and Sansa looked at her phone as the grainy black and white picture showed up. It wasn't much, but it was clearly a baby. Her niece. A Stark. 

"Good call?" Jaime asked.

Sansa shrugged. "Hard call. Hard to make amends when I hurt so many people. Especially when they're family and they don’t deserve it.”

"Yup," he said, and Sansa knew he understood. Hurting family sucked because they did love you and it felt awful.

"So, whose buns are better?" she asked, intentionally changing the subject. She felt exhausted, and it was barely noon and she needed to get her mind off the emotional landmines she’d just stepped on.

Jaime clutched at his chest and shook a finger at her.

"Sansa, do you want to start a war on Skene? How can you ask me that?”

She grinned at how dramatic he was being, and he came closer.

Her heartbeat sped up as he walked towards her, and she noted the unique green of his eyes. They were light, like chips of glass from those old bottles a person occasionally found on the beach.

"Give it up, Lannister. Moment of truth," she whispered when he was standing right in front of her.

He held up his hand and jutted out his pinky.

"I'll tell you, but you have to pinky promise to never tell anyone my answer."

She snickered, and his face got even more serious.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"Nope. The pinky promise is a promise unlike any other. They can’t be broken. Pinky promise Sansa or my answer stays with me."

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she finally held out her hand and made the promise, linking their little fingers.

"You're ridiculous, you know, that right?"

Jaime shrugged, grinned and then leaned in.

Sansa could feel the breath on her ear, and she felt something like desire curl through her body. She was so lost in his presence so close to her, and damn, did Jaime smell good, that she almost missed his answer.

"Mayra's," he whispered in her ear.

It took a moment, and then she reeled back, punching him lightly on the chest.

"Oh, you!" she growled at him as he laughed.

He winked at her and held out his hand.

"Come on, Betty Crocker, let's go have lunch with the others."

"Last time I ever bake for you," she muttered, storming past him, batting away his hand. She was miffed that he found Mayra’s baking better.

She heard his laughter and realized that he'd once again pulled her from her funk. She found Brienne dishing up soup, four places at the table as if she were expected to join them.

Knowing she probably didn't deserve their friendship or forgiveness, Sansa was a bit overcome.

Brienne, for once, reading the room correctly, just gestured to a seat.

"Join us," was all she said.

"I'm sorry."

Brienne cocked her head. "Me too."

"So we're good?"

Brienne smiled.

"We're good."

Pod and Jaime appeared, just as the women set the table, and the four of them sat down for their meal, Pod feeding Buttercup cheddar buns, while Brienne and Jaime bickered. Occasionally he winked at her or joked, but all three sensed she was comfortable not saying much. It was enough just to be included.

Sansa sat back, enjoying her new friends on Skene and hoping this was the start of something good for her, not only here but also with her family.

She was truly ready to heal and knew with Jaime by her side; anything was possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Lots of moments between Jaime and Sansa as they explore their friendship, the meddlers are outed and the puffins arrive back on Skene


	12. Woo me, Jaime!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa becomes bolder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh my lovlies! I am so excited about this chapter because we finally get some Jaimsa! Like, real, Jaimsa

* * *

_ Sansa _

The afternoon after Sansa had dropped off the baking to Sandor, Jeyne and the police, she spent it in the library and museum, checking to see if there had been any damage from the storm.

Grateful that there wasn't, Sansa found herself humming as she looked at the March calendar and the events she had scheduled, understanding the significance of turning the page on February. 

A new month.

A new beginning.

A new opportunity.

And all here on Skene, this tiny little outpost where she’d ended up.

Sansa adored her master's work and enjoyed the research project that might form some of her Ph. D. work if that was something she wanted to pursue. But more and more, that cutthroat world of academia didn't hold much appeal for her.

She liked seeing the smiles on the small groups of children that came for storytime. She found satisfaction when Tormund's brilliant daughter Nora asked her help, and Sansa was able to point her in the right direction.

She even liked the senior tea she had hosted last month, getting a kick out of the older ladies and old Aemon who sat around and gossiped about events that took place thirty years ago as if it were yesterday.

Basically, Sansa liked Skene. A lot.

And despite how epically she had screwed up these past two months, the place was starting to feel like somewhere she could put down roots.

She had always been a homebody, a woman that enjoyed her family and kept her friend circle small but tight. Skene appealed to her on so many levels. Knowing she wanted to keep the good work she’d done with Jaime going, when the power returned on Monday evening, Sansa sent a quick email to her therapist to confirm their appointment in a few days.

Sansa had expected a crash, after what she was calling 'cinnamon bun day,’ and the storm and everything that had dredged up, but to her shock and utter delight, it didn't come.

Instead, she woke up Tuesday, excited about heading into town and opening the library.

She might run into Jaime, which now felt different than it had a few days ago – there was something so comforting and reassuring about him. And she could admit, he was handsome. Not that it mattered, his looks. Much.

Sansa was planning on asking Aemon about other storms he'd weathered on Skene, and she might even stop by Mayra's coffee shop for a latte to go!

To someone else, hell to anyone else, these all might seem like small, inconsequential things. But to Sansa, they felt like huge leaps forward, and she knew if she told Jaime, or her therapist that, they'd understand.

It was also quite strange to realize she had people in her life that cared about her. Not the totally put together, successful and intelligent academic woman she had been, or the perfect wife and partner to the financial whiz husband, but the messy, bitchy, screwed-up person she was.

Jaime had seen her at her absolute worst, and he was still sticking around. He was still her friend. And that was what was truly amazing.

The sun was shining as she left her cottage, and the white fluffy clouds that dotted the blue sky made the storm that had devastated the island for three straight days seem like a distant memory. Sandor waved at her as she passed his place and continued on her way, taking her time, enjoying the scenery again.

It was breathtaking every single time, and she decided on that coffee once she hit the village. She’d be brave and bold and go to Mayra’s.

She parked and then paused as she saw Pod and Jaime inside the café, flirting with Mayra, who was blushing at the two of them.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, for the first time in what felt like forever, Sansa was actually conscious of what she wore – and how she looked.

She'd always been trim, except for that first year of university when poor eating and too much partying had packed on a few pounds. But the past few years had whittled her already slim frame down to what could only be described as skeletal. Aware of her bony hips and the boobs that didn't exactly fill out even a handful these days, and what a picture Jaime presented, she straightened her spine.

Jaime was her friend. He wasn't interested in her like that. Sure he'd made that comment outside the pub a few weeks ago, but that was just because he'd been angry at her. She still remembered how he'd looked, when his voice, deep and sure, had all but purred those words, _Oh Sansa darling, don't you know? There are no men like me._

Sansa had known that Jaime was trying to prove a point – trying to goad her into admitting that she'd felt attracted to him. And she had, from almost the first moment she'd stepped foot on Skene.

Which was why learning about his affair with Cersei had been so devastating. Just because she’d thought him a scumbag, hadn’t lessened her attraction to him.

But so much had changed since that moment and it no longer felt so bad to admit that Jaime was handsome and that he made her heart beat faster, or that desire, something she’d long ago thought had fled her, was now bad.

She'd heard his side of the story, and while she might not approve of his choices, it wasn't as torrid and awful as the press had made it sound.

She'd also seen who Jaime really was, how kind and considerate he was. At his heart, Jaime was a man who lived to help others in whatever capacity he had. He was selfless and had a huge heart.

And all of those things, coupled with the man's undeniable good looks, changed how she saw Jaime – or how she allowed herself to see Jaime. A man that had been firmly off-limits, no longer was.

There was no denying that she felt something for him. Something more than just the friendship she told him she wanted. For she did want his friendship.

Sansa was almost positive she'd ruined a chance at anything more, and that was just something she'd have to live with. After all, Jaime had already had one bitchy, crazy woman in his life – there was no way he’d want another.

For now, she was grateful he wanted to be her friend, even with her incredible amount of baggage that she had.

Friends was good.

Friends was safe.

Pep talk given, she plastered a smile on her face and pushed inside the café, prepared to try.

"Hi, Sansa," Mayra called when she spotted her. "Skinny vanilla latte, right?"

Pleasure bloomed through Sansa that Mayra knew her order.

"Yes, please," she said, blushing when Pod paid before Sansa could even take out her wallet.

"For the baking yesterday," he said, smiling kindly at her. These people were just so darn nice.

"Baking?" Mayra asked as Jaime guided her to the side to wait for their drink order.

"Oh yeah, Sansa did a whole bunch of baking and cooking for us. Even you'd be impressed May," Pod said.

Sansa shuffled her feet, all of a sudden slightly uncomfortable.

What if Mayra thought that making goodies for the island residents was her domain and that Sansa was trying to step on her toes? That would not fit in with her plans to make people like her by cooking for them and to make amends with those she'd upset.

Fretting, Sansa barely realized she was shredding a napkin she'd been holding when Jaime's warm hand gripped her fist.

"Breath," he said quietly to her. "Mayra won't be upset. In fact, she'll probably be overjoyed that someone else shares her passion."

Indeed, when Sansa got her racing heart under control, she glanced up to see both Pod and Mayra looking at her. Realizing she'd missed something, Sansa blushed as she took the coffee.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Pod said you were an excellent cook. I was asking if it was something you enjoyed?" Mayra repeated.

She didn't appear cross or upset that Sansa hadn't been paying attention, just warm and inviting, Sansa realized immediately and felt Jaime shift just slightly closer to her as if he were trying to offer her some of his support – as if he were in her corner, no matter what.

She appreciated it. Hell, she soaked it up like a sun-starved flower. How long had it been since someone had been there just for her?

"I do, love to cook and bake," Sansa said, a bit shyly. She was nowhere near as good as Mayra – it was a hobby and something she did for fun.

"Well, so do I. If you ever want to take an afternoon and just go nuts, let me know. I spend the last Thursday of each month testing out new recipes for the café, and I'd love your company."

Deeply touched by the offer, Sansa could only manage to nod and choke out a feeble, _I'll be there_ , as she felt the tears prick her eyes.

Jaime thanked Mayra then told Pod he was going to walk Sansa to the library and get her settled. Pod said his goodbyes and hurried out of the shop to the station, with Sansa and Jaime following him outside.

Once outside, Sansa took in a deep breath, closed her eyes and just focused on the bite still in the air. She did this five more times, finally feeling settled enough to open her eyes and find Jaime.

He was a few steps away, sipping his coffee and acting like it was the most normal thing in the world that she'd just about had a panic attack over discussing baking with Mayra.

Without saying a word, Sansa turned to walk towards the library, thinking she'd come back to the café for lunch and pick up her little vehicle then. For now, it felt good to walk beside Jaime through the village.

Stores were opening back up, now that the power was on, and she could see the relief in the shop owners' eyes that things hadn't been worse.

Curious, she lasted a few blocks before she blurted out, "Why do my issues not freak you out?"

Jaime's eyebrows winged up before he gave her a little smile and shook his head.

"I prefer to call them quirks."

Sansa snorted. She had enough 'quirks' to fill a swimming pool.

"Alright," she said, a bit frustrated he hadn't answered her question. He’d just sort of patted her on the head, like a good girl. It was … annoying.

They walked in silence for a few more blocks. Sansa could admit she was disappointed he hadn't taken the chance to say more to her – just that he called her issues 'quirks.'

Before she could tell him that, he spoke again. 

"I suppose it doesn't freak me out for a few reasons," Jaime said, just as the library/museum came into view. "First, now that I know your history, I can understand them. Second, they aren't that bad, despite what you might think. And three, well, I've gone through some of it myself. Still do, some days, so I get it, get where you are coming from."

Sansa stopped and stared at him, wondering what he was still going through.

"You do?"

Jaime shuffled his feet, and for the first time since she'd met him, he appeared slightly uncomfortable and nervous.

"Well, sure. I mean, everyone has something, right? But some people just have … more. There are still times when I can't believe these people have accepted me as they have. I keep waiting for them to call me a fraud and kick me off their island."

His smile was slightly self-deprecating, but Sansa could see real fear there.

The epiphany hit her all at once. Jaime might be further along his healing journey than she was, but he was still on that journey. He'd loved a woman that had used him his entire adult life. That did something to a person with a heart as big as Jaime's. And strangely enough, finding out that he wasn't quite as perfect as she thought came as a relief.

A great, big, huge relief. Ecstatic, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I'm glad you're a bit screwed up as well," she said, grinning at him to ease the sting of her words.

His chest rumbled with laughter as he hugged her back.

"Quirks, Sansa. We have quirks."

She stepped back, gazing at him in wonder. Jaime was a very complex, fascinating man – and nothing like what she'd thought when she'd first seen him and then found out his history.

That first moment, stepping off the ferry, he'd seemed like any other handsome man she'd known in her life. Slightly full of himself, a healthy ego and totally at ease in his own skin. His confidence had come through, and Sansa admitted to being attracted to it, and him.

Then, when she'd discovered he was _the_ Jaime Lannister, she'd seen his looks, position, name, and wealth, as things he must have used to justify his actions. His looks were no longer as golden as she'd once thought, his smile was not quite bright. And that attraction had dimmed, but not extinguished.

Now Sansa realized that both impressions she'd had of him had been very wrong and totally incomplete. And she'd never been so glad in her entire life to have judged someone incorrectly.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

"I am truly, deeply sorry for how I treated you, Jaime."

She saw he went to protest, and she shook her head.

"No. This needs to be said here, in the open. Not when we were trapped in my cottage. I don't agree with what you did, and I'm still disappointed that you let yourself love such an awful woman, but I am sorry that I judged you and that I treated you so poorly."

He gave a slow nod, and then a soft smile, one she'd seen only once on his face when she'd been talking about Ben. He appeared almost shy, and Sansa felt her heart flutter.

This Jaime, this soft, slightly shy, and uncertain man quickly broke down that wall around her heart.

Funnily enough, she didn't feel as scared as she thought she might have.

"Thank you, Sansa. I'm still disappointed in myself some days as well."

She gave a rueful grin and then leaned in, taking a chance, unsure where this boldness came from.

"Can I share a secret with you?"

Sansa hadn't done anything this flirty in years. It felt marvellous.

"You can tell me anything," Jaime said, honestly. And she believed him. Jaime would keep her secrets, listen to her confessions, hold her while she told him whatever was on her mind.

"As much as I want to say that my behaviour was entirely due to Harry cheating on me, and my moral high horse, there was another reason," she said to him, unable to believe she was so bold.

Curious, Jaime cocked his head, confusion on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yup," she said, popping the p. "Want to know what it was?"

Jaime swallowed hard and nodded. "I do."

"I was attracted to you," she said, grinning at him.

She watched as he appeared stunned. And said nothing back. Didn’t even give a hint that he might be attracted to her.

Usually, she would have retreated, sputtered out some lame excuse when he didn't declare he liked her like that.

But that wasn't what this was about. This was about her giving Jaime the honesty he deserved. Even if that meant she had to hear, he'd never been attracted to her. That was fine – she’d deal. And she knew they’d still be friends.

"What?"

Her smile grew. She liked how he seemed off-balance with that revelation. She shrugged.

"I was attracted to you. In fact, that first day I was thinking, _Well, now, here is a handsome man that I can have a torrid sexual affair with while on the island and then just leave, neither one of us having to get our hearts involved_."

Jaime's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, and suddenly Sansa was rethinking the whole, _He's just not that into you thought_. This man was into her. This man was so, super doper into her. It was scary but also, amazing.

"Sansa," he growled, and she felt the bolt of lust go straight through her.

Jaime wanted her. At least as much as she wanted him. Screwed up, messed up, her.

She pushed on.

"It's true. And then I found out who you were, what you'd done, and it was like a double hit. How could I sleep with a man, have a very grown-up affair with a man like that? It was like it hurt twice as much, because you were the totally wrong guy for me, I thought, and you’d cheated.”

He gave a slight nod, and she could see he'd misinterpreted her words as he stepped back.

"Ahhh, yes, I see. I mean, I do understand. I do, given your history, and Harry," Jaime said, his walls building back up.

He looked so sad and so alone, Sansa's heart ached for him. So she boldly stepped forward.

"And now I'm glad that it didn't happen like that. I’m glad we didn’t sleep together when we first met each other.”

"You are?" He was looking a bit upset at that statement. 

She nodded.

"I am. Because I don't think we are those type of people, Jaime. And as much as my behaviour was awful, I think what we have is much stronger and deeper than if we'd just slept together. We're friends now. I've told you things that I haven't told anyone. We understand each other."

He sucked in a deep breath and gazed at her.

"Yeah, we are. Friends, that it."

Jaime paused, then his eyes found hers again. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, because I'm delighted to be your friend, but I sort of am regretting the not getting a chance to sleep together when you first arrived. That you found out who I was before we could have at least one hot and heavy night," he said, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Sansa threw her head back and laughed and then patted him on the cheek. She loved his honestly, and how much he did want her. 

"Well, I didn't say that it was off the table for good Jaime."

She turned then, a skip in her step to go into the library, leaving Jaime standing there, open-mouthed, staring at her.

"Sansa you …. What do you…. Shit, what am I supposed to do with that?" Jaime called.

She turned back and looked at him - he was frustrated and unsure, but also interested. Very interested.

"Woo me, Jaime. Show me, Skene. Show me who you are. Be my friend, but also more. Show me what no one else sees when they look at you. Let me get to know the real Jaime."

She was almost inside the door, when Jaime came stalking towards her, putting one hand above her head, so she had to look up to him.

"Woo you?" he said, eyes blazing.

There was such emotion in them, as if he’d been holding it back, that her breath caught. This man was magnificent.

She nodded.

"Woo me." Suddenly unsure, she swallowed hard. "But only if you think I'm worth the effort. I have _quirks_ , as you know. I'm not easy. This … anything between us won't be easy."

"I'm trying to be a good guy, Sansa. I'm trying to be your friend."

Understanding, she nodded. "I know."

Their gazes held.

"But, we're both lying if we say that there isn't something here," she whispered to him. “Tell me you feel it as well.”

She wanted him so much, she could feel it in every part of her body – even her toes. And yet, she was nervous. Perhaps she shouldn't be doing anything like this. She'd just gotten him to agree to friendship, and now, she was asking for more, unsure if she could even give more. She wanted to – gods, she wanted more with this man. But she wasn’t a sure bet at all.

"Oh, there is something here, Sansa. But it's going to be your call. Understand that. I'll woo the hell out of you. But it will be you that makes the first move. You need to be 1000 percent sure. Because once you kiss me, that's it. If I'm in love with you, Sansa, I'm all in. I’ll never let you go. You need to know that."

She could practically feel the spark between them, the palpable hum of electricity. Jaime was giving her all the power – he'd be her friend, woo her, and to give her what she wanted – what she’d asked for.

But in the end, she'd have to be brave enough, bold enough, to take that next step.

It was scary.

It was huge.

It was utterly perfect.

Her heart all but broke open, knowing how monumental this moment was.

She knew what he was saying, and she knew that she could hurt him – again and worse this time than the last.

And still, this man was putting his heart in her hands.

"And you need to know that I've only ever loved one man in my life, Jaime. And he almost destroyed me with his disinterest and his selfishness. You know my… quirks … and that's good. But I want to know your quirks as well. I want to know the Jaime no one else does. I want in. All the way in."

"Why?" he said, the pain in that word telling her everything she needed to know.

Jaime was seeking love just like she was. And he felt just as unworthy and as scared of it as she did.

She reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking it softly and saw how he responded to that – to her softness and care. That’s when she knew she could do this, with him.

"Because I think you are a good man, Jaime, who made a horrible decision. And I think that maybe, you're as lonely as me. And that maybe, just maybe, we can heal each other. Take a chance on me, Jaime, even though I'm not a sure bet."

He rested his forehead against hers and just breathed her name.

"Sansa."

She gripped his arms and held on tight.

"Jaime."

They stayed like that for what felt like forever until he gently titled her chin to meet his eyes.

"You will always be worth it. Never forget that" he told her, his voice compelling with its intensity. "Say it. Say you're worth it."

Sansa smiled.

"I'm worth it."

He grinned back.

"One wooing unlike any you've ever seen coming up. I hope you're prepared," he said, wiggling those eyebrows, breaking the tension.

"I look forward to it," she said to him, making her voice prim and proper.

Jaime groaned as she laughed.

"Now go. I have a library to run," she said, giving him a little shove.

He backed away, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You don't know what you've done," he said, that smirk she liked so much, back on his handsome face. "I'm very good at wooing, Sansa.”

She shook her head at him, loving the flutter of excitement that hummed through her blood.

He would be good at wooing, of that she had no doubts. She suspected that when Jaime Lannister made a woman the center of his world, she would be swept away by him.

What Jaime didn't know, but soon would, was that Sansa would do the same. She was loyal, invested, honest and fiercely protective of those she thought of as hers.

And Jaime was hers, make no mistake. The wooing wouldn't be so one-sided – but he didn't need to know that. She'd show him, and in turn, make him understand how he deserved to be treated, how a woman should treat a man she had feelings for. Nothing about her plan was one-sided.

"Make me a believer, Jaime."

He stopped and then jerked his head.

"Oh, I plan on it, Sansa. And you've forgotten my secret weapon."

Sansa frowned.

"Secret weapon?"

"The meddlers!" he said, as her eyes widened, and she thought what the islands residents might do to see her and Jaime together and happy.

"Go," she told him, laughing and shaking her head at him, before finally turning to go and open the library.

She heard his laughter, loving how it warmed her heart. As she puttered around her temporary office, she couldn't' help but think she hadn't been this excited about, well, anything in a very, very long time. And that was a very, very good thing.

She was healing, and she was growing and though painful, and hard, she was proud of herself and excited to see where things with the very handsome, very kind and very considerate Jaime Lannister would go.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Let the wooing begin!
> 
> And then - Sansa needs to go back to Winterfell for an event, where all the major players in King's Landing will be there!


	13. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime attempts to woo Sansa (with a little help from his friends)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a ball of emotions at this chapter. I think this might be my most favourite Jaime I have ever written.
> 
> I hope you love it.

* * *

[Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/623553561754730496)

* * *

First Two Weeks of Wooing: Jaime

* * *

_ Tuesday: Jaime and Buttercup _

Jaime stood outside the library where Sansa had disappeared, for what felt like forever but was probably closer to five minutes, stunned by what had just happened.

Sansa Stark had flirted with him. Not only flirted with him but told him that she'd been attracted to him. And even better, that she was still attracted to him. She'd asked him to woo her!

Him!

To woo her!

It was incredible.

As he turned to walk back to the police station, Jaime hardly even noticed the spring in his step, nor the fact that he was whistling.

Sansa had openly asked for Jaime to be romantic with her – to win her over!

It was an indescribable feeling, especially for a man like him who had spent most of his life in a secret relationship that he’d hidden from everyone.

He wondered if she understood what a gift she'd given him, to allow him to pursue her publicly, with no shame or clandestine murkiness attached to their liaison. As he thought about it, he knew that she did. Sansa was highly intelligent, and just because life had beaten her down, did not mean she didn't see people and understand them. She'd demonstrated that today, with him, with what she’d asked for and how she’d asked for it.

Once Jaime pursued her, everyone on Skene would know. And that was amazing.

Jaime hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told her that he would not make the first physical move.

He'd romance her, court her, woo her ( _he grinned at her word, liking it a lot_ ), but ultimately, if she wanted more than romantic gestures and movie-worthy dates, it would have to come from her. She would have to decide to elevate their relationship to that next level. For a man that loved the physical intimacy that came from a relationship, Jaime was oddly fine with that.

When he got back to the station, Jaime found Buttercup waiting, shaking his head in wonder at how she'd arrived. She must escape more than she stayed put, but Sandor never worried, as she always found her way home. Jaime pushed inside the tiny station to tell Pod he'd run her back out to Sandor's farm.

Pod just nodded, working on his reports from the storm, hardly looking up. She quickly hopped into his vehicle and almost wiggled as if she'd gotten exactly what she wanted, which was probably true.

"It's not like I don't see the danger of starting something with her," Jaime found himself saying to the sheep, who bleated happily as they drove along the cobblestone roads. “Danger to my heart,” he added, although Buttercup didn’t answer back.

"She's had some really shitty things happen in her life. I mean, with a husband like her ex, well, that alone would make most women wary about a new relationship."

Jaime paused, thinking of Sansa's crappy ex-husband. What kind of man abandoned his wife when something like this happened? Jaime knew if he ever met this Harry he’d have a hard time not giving the man a piece of his mind.

"And that doesn't even touch on what happened to Ben," Jaime said quietly.

He got to the hill overlooking Sandor's farm, where he pulled over, deep in thought – thinking of Sansa and Ben and what they had been through.

"Ben was her son, Buttercup."

Just saying the words brought up so much emotions for him. Jaime hadn't even known Ben, but Sansa's love for him had made him come alive. And somehow, saying Ben's name out loud, brought the reality that the little boy had died, home, in stark reality. Jaime wanted to weep and rage and he’d never even known Ben. How did Sansa function somedays, with the emotions that must course through her.

The sheep butted against his shoulder, and he stroked her soft ears as if she knew he needed that comfort.

"He died. Of cancer," Jaime spat out, hating that word, hating what had happened to Ben.

What world allowed little children to die of such a horrible disease? He understood that the cancer had stolen more than Ben’s life – it had taken his childhood, what little he’d had, from him.

After Sansa had dropped off all the baking and the soup yesterday, Jaime had spent most of the day thinking about a little boy that was no longer here. As a cop, Jaime knew that bad things happened to good people. There was no rhyme, no reason and no logic to it. Sometimes, bad shit just happened to people through no fault of their own. The pain that Jaime felt, for Sansa, for Ben, for all of them, made him ache.

He'd gone home last night and indulged in more than one glass of whiskey while thinking of everything she'd lost. She had no idea how incredible he thought that she was. She was a survivor, clawing her way back towards the light, one brutal day at a time.

Jaime had noticed her right away, this morning, when she'd approached Mayra's bakery. She had been impossible to miss before, but now that he knew he so well, Jaime felt like there was this invisible cord that connected them. He couldn’t have stayed away if he tried and defiantly not after she’d asked him to be her friend.

And he had been prepared, more than prepared, to be nothing more than her friend – and be satisfied with that. He would have understood if she’d wanted nothing more from him than that, for any number of reasons.

Watching her give herself the little pep talk before entering the café made Jaime want to rush outside and hold her hand, promising her that it would be fine. But he knew she needed to take these first steps herself.

And she had and his pride in her had surged to an all-time high.

She'd talked with Pod and Mayra and even agreed to go to May's house for one of her infamous baking sessions.

Sure, she'd shredded a napkin and got lost in her own head, but she'd come in, and she'd made plans. That meant something. These were the little things that indicated she was trying, that she was healing.

What was even more stunning was that entire conversation that had happened after the café!

Jaime hadn't been lying when he told Sansa he preferred to call issues 'quirks.' It was something he'd talked about with his therapist. And while he might be better at managing his ‘quirks' than her, it didn't mean he didn't have them.

He was a giver.

He was a peacemaker.

He was a sucker for a sob story and had a bit of a hero-saviour complex.

He got involved with women who were off-limits, either emotionally or for other reasons, so that he had something to blame when the relationship failed.

All of which had led him to examine if he was an idiot to get involved with Sansa.

To an outsider, all of his 'quirks' might make Sansa the last woman on earth that he should be pursuing anything with, beyond friendship. Because they would only see a woman that was just barely keeping her head above water – and they’d worry that he was doing what he did with Cersei all over again.

But Jaime saw what others didn't and knew what few did.

Sansa was nothing like Cersei.

Sansa was a fighter.

Sansa wanted to be happy.

Sansa was good and had a core of steal in her that few possessed.

Sansa wanted to find her way back to the light – she wanted to create something new, from the ashes of the old life that was gone.

Sure she was knocked down right now, maybe hitting rock bottom, and life had seriously handed her some bumps. He was pretty sure that for the rest of her life, Sansa was going to have to learn to live with her grief – because her love for her son would never go away and so she’d have to learn how to incorporate that into her life moving forward.

There would always be bittersweet moments for her, times that made her melancholy, and days that flat out sucked. There was no getting around that, no hiding from it. For the rest of her life, Sansa was going to have to learn to live with Ben's life and his death. And she wasn't even thirty. That was a massive burden for any one person to carry.

But even with that burden, she wasn't looking for a hero. She didn't need someone to rescue her.

She was rescuing herself.

She was her own heroine in her story.

And that was fucking awesome. And it made her so diametrically different from Cersei, that Jaime had no fear he was falling into bad, old patterns with Sansa.

"She's incredible," he told Buttercup. "She doesn't see it. She just thinks she's this bitchy, messed up, grief-stricken mother. But there were hints of the person that she is going to be when she gets through this. She won't be the same person as before – but she'll be amazed at herself when she finds her footing."

Buttercup bleated softly.

"And Christ, do I want to be there when she does."

Jaime didn't want Sansa to be emotionally off-limits, or to be somehow unavailable to him.

He wanted to be there when she realized that she still had a rich, full, complex life left to live.

He wanted to be her friend – and her lover.

Her partner and hell, whatever she wanted.

He just wanted to be here, with her, as she figured this all out.

He didn't need to save her – just be by her side, lending her support when she needed it.

And any last doubts that Jaime might have about Sansa had been obliterated with her simple, yet perfect plea for him to woo her.

Nothing about what might happen between them would be a secret, and that was so refreshing, so amazing, that Jaime was still happily reeling from it.

He put the vehicle into gear and then headed towards Sandor's place, ready to drop the wayward sheep back off at her home.

"You're going to have to get used to her," Jaime told Buttercup. “She’s in my life now, and I’m not giving her up. Not even for you.”

He swore she glared at him.

Jaime shrugged.

"I like her Buttercup. Really, really like her."

A soft _maaaa_ was the only answer, but Jaime felt they were on the same page.

* * *

_ Friday: Jaime and Storytime _

Jaime spent the next few days thinking of ways to make Sansa smile – to woo her as she put it. Gods, he loved that phrase. It was so perfect and so them and what they both needed.

First up, was a cinnamon bun and her skinny vanilla latte from Mayra'a place. Jaime knew he was taking a real risk after saying that Mayra's buns were better than Sansa, but he thought she might like his cheek. He'd been told his ego was 'charming' if he didn't let it get too out of hand.

In truth, Jaime's smirk and confidence were often a cover to hide what he was really feeling. He had grown up in the spotlight, the eldest son to the great Tywin Lannister. Jaime loved his father, but he cast a very long shadow. So Jaime had learned early on to hide what he was really feeling – from his family and the press, and the people his father regularly interacted with with a cocky persona that people didn’t look past.

That had led to descriptions of him being cocky and overconfident, a man that took nothing but his police work seriously. He’d often done nothing to relieve people of their opinions of him.

That wasn't the real Jaime, and he wanted to show Sansa that he was more than his reputation. She wanted to see the real him and the real Jaime was sweet and caring and just a bit cheeky.

With coffee and treat in hand, he strolled through the village towards the library. He might have peaked at the monthly calendar she produced and saw that she had an upcoming 'event' – the 3-5-year-old reading group she ran once a week. This month’s theme was princesses and princes.

Jaime knew that little Lyanna Snow loved her weekly reading group and that Jon typically brought her since Sansa and Val had their big blow out. But Jon was busy with a few of the goats that had gone into labour early, and Val had stopped by the station yesterday to ask Jaime if he thought Sansa would mind if she brought Lyanna instead. 

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable," Val had said, real worry in her voice.

"Val, I can't answer that. I'm sure Sansa won't mind, but it's not my place to speak for her."

Nodding, Val had said she understood and that she'd take a chance tomorrow. It hadn't been a cop-out by Jaime – he really didn't feel comfortable speaking for Sansa, and he knew that if both women were to co-exist on this island, they'd have to make their peace with each other and without interference from anyone else. Much like he and Jon had to.

When Jaime slipped inside the library, he saw Val off to the side, in the romance section, speaking with another mom, while Sansa sat at the head of a circle of five children, on the carpet in the children’s section.

Lyanna was clutching at her Merida doll, a tiny little scowl on her face.

"But I wanted Brave! Merida is a princess," Lyanna protested.

"She is," Sansa agreed readily, nodding. "And while it's lovely that she is a favourite of yours, this is not the story we are telling today. Today we are going to read Cinderella. It's a classic story," Sansa explained.

“What’s a classic?”

"That means when I was a girl, I knew this story as well. It is a popular story, that I’m sure your Mommy’s and Daddy’s know well.”

Lyanna pouted but relented, just as Jaime stepped into Sansa's view. Her eyes lit, and she beamed at him, as he held out her coffee and bun.

"Cinnamon bun. For comparison sake," he said, winking at her.

"Cheeky man," she muttered, as he turned, waving towards the children.

They all looked at him as if wondering what he was doing there. Quite frankly, Jaime didn't really know. He’d just wanted to see her, but seeing the kids look at him, he felt out of place. Suddenly, Sansa produced another tiny little chair and patted it.

"We're so lucky because Chief Jaime is going to read the prince parts!" she cried, eyes dancing, clapping.

The children cheered, and he swallowed hard.

"Sansa," he said in a low voice that she could only hear.

"Jaime," she replied, sipping her latte and looking serene like she hadn't just thrown him to the wolves – these tiny little critics.

Jaime had never had a chance to ever read a story to a child – not his or Cersei's. He'd been kept very separate from that part of her life. As if she realized that, Sansa laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed.

"They will love you. Just breathe," she told him.

He met her eyes and nodded and then watched her as she started to read. She was so animated with the children, her voice taking on different characters. She stopped and asked them to anticipate what might happen, and Lyanna, who had protested about Sansa's choice, was the loudest of them all giving her answers.

There was a little boy, dark-haired and quieter than the rest, who was sitting off the side, not really part of the group. Jaime realized that he must be the same age as what Ben would have been. It would have been easy for Sansa to ignore him, but instead, she spoke soothingly to him.

"Matthew, can you think of why her sisters might be so mean to Cinderella?" Sansa asked him gently.

She put a finger to her lips and made a shushing noise when Lyanna opened her mouth.

"Let's see if Matthew can think of a reason first," she told the eager girl.

Jaime had no idea how she did it – how she was so soft and kind to a child that had to dredge up some harrowing memories.

Matthew's mom was a single mother, who worked at the only Inn on the island, managing it. She worked hard and long hours, and she had fretted that she wasn't around for her son enough. Luckily, the island residents had rallied, so Matthew was often included in activities with people like Val or Brienne.

"The sisters are mean, and I don't like them," he said, the words all but bursting out of him.

He inched closer to Sansa, who nodded.

"Yes, they are mean. I wonder why that is?" she asked as he came closer, drawn to her.

Jaime was mesmerized by her.

Did she have any idea how much inner strength she had?

Jaime bet she didn't and that no one told her what a warrior she was.

"Cause they are …." He scrunched up his little face and then got upset. "I don't know the word."

A big fat tear rolled down his face, and before anyone could react, Sansa opened his arms, and he was there in an instant, upon her lap, as he snuggled into her.

"Alright now, let's not get upset," she told him as he sat on her lap. "Can anyone help Matthew out with the word he's looking for?"

The rest of the children had inched closer as well, not one of them making fun of the boy. They were captivated by Sansa, as was Jaime.

"My mama has used that word before," Lyanna said, a knowing look in her eye.

Jaime bit back a grin. He’d bet Val had used that word and Lyanna had picked it up. He’d bet there wasn’t much that Lyanna missed when it came to her parents.

"It starts with the letter J," Sansa said, giving them a hint.

Matthew, now over his outburst, said, "Jealous!"

"Yes!" Sansa cried happily. "They were jealous of Cinderella, and even though they made her do all these chores, and get all their pretty things ready, she didn't let their feelings bother her or make her angry."

Sansa went on to ask them questions about feeling jealous, and how to be a good friend, and eventually, Matthew went back to his seat on the floor.

Jaime read the prince parts and the parts of the mice, making voices as the children laughed.

An hour later, storytime was over, and Sansa leaned against the door as the last mom and kid left. She took one look at Jaime and burst into tears. It was the most natural thing in the world to hold her as she cried, saying nothing, just patting her back.

Finally, when she hiccupped and wiped her face, he said, "Brave woman."

She gave an incredulous laugh.

"Liar. I'm a wreck."

"You're incredible," he countered, cupping her cheeks. "Sansa, that was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen."

"I'm a mess."

He cocked his head. She was, but he could already see her rallying.

"Yeah, ok. For about five minutes. And really, how is it that you are a 'wreck?' You just comforted a boy that was your dead son's age, and kept storytime going, while imparting some fundamental lessons to a small group of children."

"Maybe," she said, worrying her lip.

"Not maybe. You did it. It was hard, and you survived it. Tell me how you feel, right now," he demanded. He knew he was pushing her, but he wanted her to see herself as he did. Not as a victim, but as someone who was taking control of her life.

He thought she might lie- more to herself than to him, but she surprised him by saying, "I feel proud of myself. It was hard, but it would have been worse not to comfort him."

Jaime smiled at her. "There you go. I'm so proud of you. Now, are you going to share your cinnamon bun with me, or am I going to have to beg?"

Tension gone, she shook her head at him as they went to the check-out desk and split the sticky treat.

She moaned, and Jaime had to bite back the flirty response, knowing this wasn't the time or place to press her for more.

"It is pretty good, but I still have one more recipe to try to win you over to my side," she said when they were done.

"Another recipe?" he said, intrigued. He didn’t think there could be many variations in cinnamon buns.

"Two words. Maple frosting," and winked at him.

For a brief moment, Jaime had some very interesting thoughts on where he might want to put said frosting and lick it off her, but he kept those ideas to himself, for now.

"Well, I should head back. By now, I'm sure the entire town has heard I stood in as Prince Charming today, and I won't hear the end of it."

"Thank you," Sansa said, a wealth of meaning in her words.

She wasn't thanking him for staying and reading to the kids, even though he knew she appreciated it. She was thanking him for allowing her to grieve, and then to move forward. To fall apart and put herself back together, with no judgement from him.

"Anytime," Jaime said, before giving her a little wave and leaving the library. He meant it as well. Anytime Sansa wanted him around, he'd be there.

As he walked back to the station, Jaime knew that Sansa would find her way through her grief, one incident at a time. Even if he hadn't been there today, she still would have offered little Matthew her lap, and she still would have cried. She didn't need Jaime, but she sure seemed to like having him around. And that made all the difference in the world.

* * *

_ Friday: Jaime and the Northern Lights _

A week later, Jaime was just finishing up the last of his paperwork when Tormund entered the station. Since Brienne was off and it was Friday at the end of the school week, Jaime was surprised to see his friend. Usually, a person couldn't pry Tormund from Brienne's side.

"Lion!" he called in that booming voice of his.

Jaime smiled.

"Tormund, what can I do for you?"

The man grinned, and Jaime got a funny feeling in his stomach.

By now, word had circulated all over Skene that Jaime was wooing Sansa. While most of the residents had been respectful and even cautious, there were a few who had offered Jaime their unsolicited 'advice' on how to win her over.

Bronn's advice had been crude and colourful, and while Jaime wanted Sansa, desperately sometimes, he was not about to get her drunk and push his luck.

He was also not going to cook her a romantic dinner, as suggested by Pod and Wyn since Jaime's cooking skills were basic at best and left much to be desired.

Now it seemed like Tormund had some advice.

"I have it on good authority that the Aurora Borealis will be making an appearance tonight. I am sure that the one kissed by fire has never seen them."

Jaime gave him a look. "She was born and raised in Wintertown."

Tormund frowned, then waved a hand. "Bah. But has she seen them on Skene! And with you by her side!" The man dared to wink at Jaime.

Jaime suppressed the grin but had to admit, it was a romantic date night activity – if the Northern Lights made an appearance. It was getting late in the season to see them and the worst would be to show up at Sansa’s and have them not be there.

"Who told you?" he asked Tormund.

"Mance saw them last night. He said they’ll be back tonight.”

That was good enough for Jaime. The lighthouse keeper was positively spooky when it came to the natural wonders of Skene. He could almost predict to the day when the puffins would arrive, along with the Orcas in the straight between Skene and Skagos. If Mance said the Northern Lights would show tonight, Jaime could count on it.

"Thanks," Jaime said, meaning it.

Tormund grinned and patted him on the back and then went to leave, hesitating only when he got to the door. Turning back, Jaime saw his face was serious.

"I know we are bothersome, Jaime. I know we are nosy, and we meddle. But we care. That woman, she has sad eyes. But not so much these past few weeks. You're good for her."

Deeply touched and unable to say much more than a simple, "Thank you,” Jaime waved as Tormund left the station.

When he got home that night, Jaime sent Sansa a text, asking how her day was. They'd bumped into each other over the past week, but Jaime had given her a bit of space, and she seemed to appreciate it.

The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm her, or crowd her, or scare her off. It was hard because he felt he could spend each and every day with her and never grow tired of her company, but this had to be at her pace.

 **Jaime** : How was your week?

 **Sansa** : Good. Long, but good. I appreciate the latte deliveries.

 **Jaime** : I'm glad. They were a highlight.

 **Sansa** : Have you heard that Lyanna has requested Sandor for when we read _Beauty and the Beast_?

Jaime just about spat out his coffee at that thought. The best part of it was that he knew the big man would grumble but do it. He’d do anything for Lyanna. 

**Jaime** : OMG, that is perfect. She's a character for sure.

 **Sansa** : She is. And Matthew came back. He had a sword and said he wanted to be like Chief Jaime.

Jaime paused, deeply touched with the love that the island residents had for him.

 **Sansa** : Jaime?

He realized he hadn't responded and quickly did so.

 **Jaime** : That's awesome. He's a good kid. Now, onto the real reason, I texted you. Your next wooing is coming up. I just want you to be prepared.

 **Sansa** : Prepared for what?

 **Jaime** : 11 pm. Dress warm

 **Sansa** : Jaime, what on earth do you have planned?

He didn't respond, smiling to himself. It was good to keep her off balance.

He loaded up his vehicle at 10:30 pm that night, noting how clear the sky was. There was crisp to the air, so he added a few blankets and a couple of lawn chairs, along with a thermos of hot chocolate and then set out for Sansa's cottage.

He hadn't been back here since the storm and found he missed it. If he were ever to make Skene his home, which he wasn't, but if he were, he'd want to live out of town. Perhaps in a place slightly bigger than what Sansa currently had, but somewhere private, with a big old farmhouse, where he could raise a family.

Being on Skene, Jaime was acutely aware of everything he was missing in his life.

A wife. Children. A family.

How he'd ever thought that being with Cersei would get him those things were beyond his comprehension now that he was away from her and that entire awful affair.

As he bumped across the little bridge, Jaime wondered if she'd waited up for him or gone to bed. He’d bet she’d waited. She was curious.

Sure enough, he saw the light on and knew it was in her kitchen. When he parked, her door opened before he could even knock, and she stood there, glaring at him.

"I'm in my pyjamas, because no one in their right mind plans a date, of all things, at 11 pm on a Friday night unless they think it's a booty call. And this booty isn't calling, Jaime. Not yet," she said to him, her eyes flashing.

Jaime grinned and held up the thermos of hot chocolate, noting there were little sheep on her long flannel pyjamas that were blue. She had on fuzzy slippers and her hair in a braid. He wanted to scoop her up and never let her go, she was that adorable.

"Peace offering," he said, waving the thermos.

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.

"What's that?"

Jaime hid the smile.

"Hot chocolate and brownies."

Sensing she wasn't about to bash him over the head, he walked towards her, stopping only a few inches from her.

"Jaime, what is this?" she asked quietly, confusion on her face. He knew she wasn't ready for anything physical, and he'd told her that it would have to be her call. So she had to be wondering. He didn’t blame her. But he wasn’t here for that. He was here to woo her.

"Look up."

The confusion deepened.

"What?"

"Look up," he repeated, reaching around her to turn off her outside light, just as she titled her head. And gasped.

She reached for him, whether to steady herself or out of the sheer magnificence of the night sky. But either way, Jaime was there to catch her.

"Oh my," she breathed in.

He did the same and made a note to send Mance a bottle of whiskey in thanks. The sky was putting on a show, with greens, purples and blues streaking across it. There were more stars visible on Skene than anywhere else in Westeros due to very low light pollution, and Jaime knew he could spend hours with Sansa just lost in the beauty before them. It was a sight unlike any other in Westeros and he knew they were some of the lucky few who got to see it.

"I have chairs," he told her when her eyes finally found his.

"Jaime, this is magical," she exclaimed.

"It is. Come on. I'll get them set up, and then you can snuggle in your blanket."

“You brought me a blanket,” he heard her say, knowing he’d done something good tonight.

The chairs were low gravity ones, so they swung back, essentially making them like a hammock or a cot, and Jaime got Sansa settled and tucked in, before he set his up, joining her.

There were quiet, comfortable with each other as they watched the night sky perform.

"I loved stars when I was a kid. I could spend hours when we went to the family cabin, just lying on the dock, watching them all," she said, her voice reverent.

"We didn't often get Northern Lights in the summer, but I've seen them a few times. Nothing like this, though," she added.

Please, with himself, and with his friends that were looking out for them, Jaime turned to her.

"I'm glad this made you smile."

She gave him a nod, then sniffed.

He reached out his hand so that she could hold it. Now she was looking at him, the sky forgotten.

"I hate that all the good things in my life always come with this thought of, _Oh, Ben would love this_. And then the good thing doesn't feel so good."

Jaime nodded sagely. "It's bittersweet."

She appeared stunned for a moment and then gave a slow nod. "Oh … well … that's just perfect."

Jaime said nothing, just squeezing her hand.

"Bittersweet," she murmured to herself.

She sat up then, and he was forced to follow, as the blanket dropped.

"How do you do that?"

There was a frown on her face.

"Do what?"

He was confused. He'd thought he'd handled everything correctly.

She waved a hand around.

"Go inside my head, and just know what I'm feeling, know the perfect thing to say. Know how to make me feel like not such a lunatic, even though we both know I am. How are you just perfect?"

Jaime threw his head back and laughed as she huffed out a breath.

"Sansa, I am the least perfect person, you know."

She glared, and he reached down to shove the box of brownies at her.

"Eat. You're cranky and not at me."

She glowered.

Jaime smirked.

"Well, maybe at me, but not really."

She chomped into the brownie, moaning in a way that did nothing to relieve how much he wanted her. While she chewed, he responded to her question.

"Look, Sansa. I've spent my entire life watching people. Observing them. You're many things, but good at hiding what your feelings is not one of them."

She opened her mouth, and he shook his head.

"Nope. Don't argue. It's true, and it's not a bad thing. If someone just pays attention to you, you are remarkably easy to understand. And I say that with the utmost respect because you are a very complex person. But fundamentally? You don't want to be sad, Sansa. Or angry at the world. You are right now, and with good reason. But there is such goodness in you that even at rock bottom, you can't help but find the silver lining in things."

Her jaw dropped open and pleased with himself, Jaime tugged on the end of her braid.

"Sansa, you are filled with so much love and so much caring that it is impossible for it not to come out. So yeah, your life is most likely going to be bittersweet. You will get through this dark chapter, and you will find happiness again. And in those moments, those happy moments, you are going to think of Ben. Because he would have loved this. What little boy wouldn't? He would have snuggled up in your arms, and most likely giggled at being allowed to be awake so late. He'd eat way too many sweets and be a nightmare for you to get back to sleep. He might even give himself a tummy ache before he'd crawl into bed with you. And you’d let him, because you would have known how special this night was. But all of that would have been worth it, because you guys would have talked about this night for years, and it'd be a good memory. So I get it. Tonight is bittersweet. And there is going to be lots of bittersweet moments in your life."

Afraid he'd overstepped when he realized she was crying again, Sansa stood and crossed over to his chair.

"Scooch over," she said to him.

Stunned, he did nothing for a moment, before he slid over and she joined him. They lay back, now gazing at each other, both blankets on top of them. They were quiet for a time, and Jaime knew she had something on her mind.

"No one has ever understood me like you. No one has ever wanted to," she said to him.

"Well, I do. Want to know you, that is.”

"I know. It's incredible."

The tears started again.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry," he started to apologize.

She reached up and cupped his face.

"Jaime, I wasn't crying because I was sad. Well, ok, maybe a bit. But it wasn't just that. It was the fact that you knew what I was thinking. That you said his name. That you built this entire _what-if_ scenario in your head – with my son. No one else has ever done that with me, Jaime. Harry said it was too painful and that I was torturing myself. But I do it all the time. And now, you did it as well. So thank you for saying his name, for allowing him to share this moment with us. You made him real and you validated my feelings without making me feel like I’m broken. Even if I'm sad, or it's bittersweet, this moment still matters. Thank you for allowing my son to be part of this."

"Always," Jaime promised her. He meant it as well. He’d always let Ben be part of their lives.

Their eyes held for a moment longer, before she finally turned, now in his arms, to watch the lights dance.

The silence stretched, not unpleasant at all, and Jaime knew something profound had happened between them tonight.

"Excellent wooing, Jaime," she finally said, sleepily.

He just chuckled and held her tight, contentment racing through him, as he held Sansa beneath the night sky on Skene.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> More woo-ing
> 
> We get a Sansa POV and then some more woo-ing and then finally, the meddlers are exposed!


	14. Too much lemony goodness!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We backtrack to after Sansa has asked Jaime to woo her, and the storytime event, to see Sansa's POV. We meet Arya and then another date with our couple.

* * *

First Two weeks of wooing: Sansa

* * *

_ [Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/623726165064040448/i-love-this-so-much) _

* * *

_ Sansa speaks with her therapist  _

Sansa spent a few days thinking about Jaime after he'd surprisingly shown up for the reading circle at the library. In truth, since she'd landed on Skene, she'd spent many, many hours thinking about Jaime.

But after their chance meeting at the café, along with her request for Jaime to woo her, and her admittance that she was attracted to him, Sansa found that most of her days were occupied with thinking of the handsome man from the south.

Her reaction to the little boy, Matthew, had not been wholly unexpected, as she'd always known that children Ben's age were a trigger for her.

What had been a bit shocking was how Jaime had just held her as she cried, then told her she was amazing and then made her admit she was proud of how she'd handled the situation.

She'd never met anyone like him – someone that didn't use her emotional outbursts as a way to make her feel bad about herself. He never seemed uncomfortable when she cried. In fact, he often made it seem like it was natural for her to react like she did and then put it behind her and move forward.

It was refreshing and eased some of the crippling guilt and shame she felt at always being a burden. For the past two years, people had treated her with kid gloves, gotten upset at her when she'd had such outbursts, or just looked at her with pity. Her family put up with her, but she'd driven friends away, her husband away, and she felt separate from almost everyone in her life.

But not Jaime.

There was some odd mix of pride, challenge and empathy there in his eyes whenever she opened up and told him what she was feeling. And she adored him for it.

Jaime was a force, telling her that she was strong and proud of her and that she was a warrior. It was incredible to hear him say those words, and more, to know that he meant them. Jaime didn't see her as too broken or crippled by her grief. He saw her as a woman that was fighting for her happiness.

And it didn't hurt that he was so handsome he made her want something she hadn't wanted in years. A person that was interested in her as a woman – in every possible way. It was a heady feeling, and Sansa revelled in it.

When she had her next therapy session, she spent an hour talking about Jaime. She just couldn't stop the flow of words, and there was so much to talk about when it came to Jaime!

She told her therapist everything - from the moment she'd first seen him on the island and her reaction to the incident with the book club and then what happened during the storm.

"And the wildest thing is that he just knows all the worst parts of me and saw me act so childish towards him, and he forgave me. I was a total bitch. I was judgy and mean and snappy at him, and he just went out of his way to give me space after the book club incident," Sansa said, wonder in her voice.

She'd curled up in the blanket Jaime had used when he'd spent the night on her couch. It still smelled faintly of him, and she loved that. Jaime always smelled so good – something spicy and delicious.

"And what made you think of Jaime differently?" her therapist asked. "Why were you willing to give him a chance? You seemed quite set in your opinion of him."

"Well, a day before the storm, I'd been visiting my neighbour. He'd be this big, gruff guy but a total sweetheart. He's friends with Jaime. I mean, everyone is friends with Jaime. But he said he wasn't a bad guy. And I mean, logically, I could see that. My issue was him being a cheater. I just put him and Harry in the same box and decided he had to be a jerk, like Harry. Then there was this day where I went to Sandor's, and Jaime was there. He took one look at me and left because he knew that would make me uncomfortable. And it sucked because I was the reason Jaime left his friend's house. So Sandor just looked at me and asked me if I wanted to be right, or if I wanted to be happy. He was just so blunt. Almost no one has spoken to me like that."

It was the most amount of words Sansa had ever said to her therapist at one time.

"Ahhhh, yes. We've discussed this before."

"We have. And I know you've said it to me as well."

Sansa paused.

"At first, I thought my issue with Jaime was that he had willingly gotten involved with a married woman. And I won't lie and say that I approve of his choice, because I don't. But I think I understand why he made his choice. He shared his story with me, and I could see how much she used him. He's a good man."

Sansa took a moment, as she imagined Jaime in her kitchen, helping with the dishes. Or him stroking the peat fire. Adding fuel to the generator. Listening to her. Making her smile. Giving her space. Challenging her. Holding her when she shared Ben with him. Bringing her a latte.

Yes, Jaime Lannister was a very good man. He was so much more than the media had made him out to be when the scandal had broken, and Sansa knew that now. She had seen the real Jaime Lannister and not the troubled man they'd painted him to be. And she would defend him to anyone who disparaged him.

"He knows when to comfort me, and he knows when to push. He respects me. And he thinks I'm strong, not weak," Sansa added as if she were still getting used to the idea that someone saw her in that way. It was still amazing to hear that Jaime viewed her in such a way. In her own mind, and in the mind of her family and friends, she was broken.

"You are strong, Sansa. Every single day you choose to fight for your future makes you strong. But you've also used that strength that you needed to protect yourself - to build some massive walls around your heart. I was concerned that those walls were getting so high, no one would be able to tear them down."

"I was scared as well. I don't like being alone. I mean, I grew up in a big, loud household, and then I moved in with Marg and Ros. Harry and I lived downstairs, but there were always people around. But when Ben got sick, even with my family there, I felt alone. Christ, I feel like I've been alone for so long."

"Your husband let you down, Sansa, when you needed him the most."

"He did."

It felt good to admit that. Sansa knew she'd gone a bit crazy when she got Ben's diagnosis, but she'd expected Harry to fight for their son as hard as she had. Instead, he hadn't. And that had been insurmountable in their relationship, even if Ben had lived.

"Moving to Skene was a risk, Sansa. You were going to be physically and emotionally alone, on a remote island, with absolutely no friends or family. I expressed my concerns when you made this choice. But now, it appears you're allowing yourself to be vulnerable again. That can be scary. Don't sell yourself short on the choices you have made and the strides you have gained."

Sansa thought about that. She had opened herself up to Jaime once he'd breached those walls. She'd expected him to retreat, after her meltdown on him on day two of the storm. Instead, the man had stood in her kitchen, cooked her breakfast and challenged the ever-living hell out of her and her world view.

"It is. Scary, that is. But also good. I showed him my scrapbook of Ben."

Sansa sobbed a bit, reaching for the book she'd left on her coffee table, tracing a finger over Ben's face.

"Oh, Sansa. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of myself as well."

"And how did this Jaime react to Ben?"

Sansa tilted her head, trying to recall.

"He was interested – really interested. Not just in the way some people are to make themselves look good. He asked me questions, and he listened to my stories. He seemed to want to get to know Ben."

"That's wonderful. And since the storm? Have you seen Jaime?"

Sansa felt the blush rise.

"I have. I made a point to stop by the station to bring some baking as a thank you after the storm. Oh! I stopped by someone's house here. Totally unannounced. A woman named Jeyne. We chatted. And I also stopped by the café, that Mayra runs. She invited me to her house to try out some new recipes, and I told him I would go, even though I'm not nearly as good a baker as she is. Then Jaime showed up to storytime, and I made him read the Prince Charming parts."

Her therapist chuckled warmly, and Sansa let the sound spread throughout her body. It felt good – and it was nice to share her progress with someone that had been with her from the start when it came to Ben's illness and subsequent death.

"Oh, Sansa. This is such good progress. So now, tell me how you are feeling. You've made some huge steps in your healing journey, but that can also be hard."

Sansa sniffed, curling up a bit.

"It is hard. I keep waiting for the crash, which hasn't happened, at least not yet. But it's weird because there isn't a lot of pressure. If I don't want to go to the café one morning, no one gets upset at me. Jaime gives me space, which I appreciate, but he also checks in to see if I need anything. But there aren't any expectations, and it's all at my own pace."

"I'm so glad."

They talked a few more times, diving deeper into Sansa's phone call to Marg. There was a lot to unpack there, and Sansa wasn't quite ready to let go of some of the feelings of jealousy and hurt she had over Marg and Robb's new baby. Logically she knew she shouldn't be jealous, but her heart was struggling with that message. Still, it was progress, and her therapist was pleased.

Sansa ended up asking if she was crazy when she told Jaime to woo her.

"You're an adult, Sansa. Unattached and free to ask whatever man you'd like to woo you."

They had worked on some strategies for Sansa to continue with the momentum she'd already made, and her therapist reminded her that there would be setbacks.

"Sansa, you've dealt with an incredible amount of trauma, and healing isn't linear. Remember that, for when something happens that perhaps catches you off guard."

Pleased with herself, feeling hopeful in a way she hadn't in a long time, Sansa knew it was a combination of Jaime, her friendships on Skene and the choices she was making with her life. She felt like she was in control and that she had a safe space just to be herself, even if she wasn't very nice some days, or had crying jags at work. It was alright. Somehow, these people, as nosy and as interfering as they were, cared.

And somehow, being on Skene, alone and away from everyone and everything she knew, had turned out to be the best possible thing for Sansa. This place and these people were healing her – and she was allowing that to happen.

Hope bloomed inside Sansa, and she clung to it, finally looking forward to her future and whatever that future might look like. It was unknown, but it was there. And she was going to grab it with both hands and make it the best she possibly could.

* * *

_ Sansa speaks with Arya _

After the whole 'woo me Jaime' incident, Sansa also knew it was time to let someone from outside Skene into her life on Skene. Outside her therapist, that was. And there was only one person on earth that she could speak to about this.

She texted Arya after storytime and said she needed an hour of her sister's time. Arya responded immediately, and so Sansa's Saturday night date was with her sister, the one person who had been her constant through Ben's illness and his death. Arya had stood by Sansa's side the entire time – her biggest supporter and best defender.

And, incredibly, Arya had given her space when she'd come to Skene, knowing that this was something Sansa needed to do for herself. She made herself a cup of tea, and once again, with Jaime's blanket wrapped around her, opened her laptop and Facetimed her sister.

"So, what's going on?" Arya said, getting right to it. "Marg said you called her. That's huge, San."

"It is. I mean, I wasn't great, and I'm still not totally good with the whole baby thing, but I guess it was a start."

Arya snorted. "You made Marg happy, and that, in turn, made Robb happy." Arya paused, then gentled her voice. "They get it. I mean, I know they are Marg and Robb, and the world generally spins around them, but we all know that they didn't get pregnant to hurt you – even if it did."

Sansa sighed, her fingers trailing over the blanket. She knew this. She did. And it was true. Marg and Robb were slightly self-involved, but otherwise good people.

"I know. But,"

"But your son isn't here, and your marriage imploded. Sansa, you don't have to convince me. I'd be a rage machine if I went through what you did. I'm just saying, you made Marg happy that you reached out. Is it perfect? No. But something had to happen on that freaking island for you to call her. So spill. All the details," Arya added when she saw Sansa hesitate.

"Oh my god! It's a guy! WHO?" Arya practically shouted.

Surprisingly enough, Sansa found herself laughing, and settled in to tell Arya all about Jaime. It was a good old fashioned gossip session with her best friend, and Arya made all the appropriate supportive comments – her sister was always Team Sansa.

When Sansa told Arya about the comment outside the pub, her sister snorted and shook her head. "Only a fucking Lannister."

"What do you know about the Lannisters?"

"Business major San. Tywin's a major player. I mean, there is an entire section in our intro to Business Ethics class dedicated to him – or how to not be utterly ruthless like him. It was a huge deal when Jaime didn't follow in his footsteps."

"Huh." It was hard for Sansa to think of Jaime as anything but the Chief of Police on Skene.

"But clearly, things changed between you two, because honestly, I haven't seen you this smitten over a guy since the early Harry days."

"I am. Smitten, that is."

Arya frowned, licking icing from a spoon. "So how did you get from hating Jaime Lannister, cheater extraordinaire, to being smitten with the golden lion?"

"Golden lion?"

"Yup. That's what they call him. The golden lion. Damn, I'd love to intern at Daddy Lannister's company when I graduate with my MBA. That's like the ultimate prize - to work for him."

Arya appeared lost in thought, and Sansa knew if she wanted, she could put a bug in Jaime's ear about her little sister, who was a few months away from getting her MBA.

"But I digress. Tell me why you don't hate Jaime anymore."

Sansa snuggled in deeper to the couch, pulled the blanket up, told Arya all about the storm, and the talk.

"Wow. That's…. Wow," Arya said, now sitting.

"I know. I mean, I know I've been a terror to deal with. I get it, Arya. And even when I was being an uber bitch, and knew I was hurting people, I just couldn't stop."

"Sansa, stop. You've gone through something that is every mother's nightmare. Our mother wallowing in her grief didn't help. Harry being a gigantic ass, was just the icing on the shitty cake that was your life. You are allowed to be whatever you wanted or needed to be."

The tears came suddenly, and Sansa wiped them away. "Oh, I love you so much, sister. I love how you've had my back through this whole thing. But Jaime's right. I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life. I'm not even thirty, Arya. It fucking hurts so much some days that I don't know how I even get up."

"Sansa," Arya said, pain and empathy and hurt in that single word. "Don't punish yourself."

Sansa gave a jerky nod. "I'm not. Well, not much. I guess, right now, the best I can say is that I'm trying. I've made some friends on the island. The people here are pretty chill. Nosy and involved, but kind-hearted. Jaime is incredible. He's just … _Iaskedhimtowoome._ "

Arya's eyes widened as she tried to follow that sentence.

"Pardon me?"

Sansa blushed.

"I asked him to woo me, Arya."

"Woo you?"

Sansa nodded.

"Yup. Woo me."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" she said, frowning. Sansa adored how protective Arya was of her.

Sansa grinned.

"It means that I asked him to take things slow, to get to know me, to date me. To make an effort. Even when I might not seem like I'm worth said effort, it means that he brought me a latte and a cinnamon bun, and when I roped him into being Prince Charming, he did it. He also held me after I had a meltdown. And he told me that when I was ready, and only when I was ready, that he would kiss me. Only I have to kiss him first."

Arya's eyebrows shot up.

"Let me get this straight. Jaime Lannister, who is arguably one of the wealthiest and most eligible bachelors in all of Westeros, a man involved with a truly awful woman who used him for a decade, and a man caught in a torrid affair, has agreed to woo you?"

"Yup," Sansa said, popping the p. Then she got serious.

"Arya, he isn't anything like Harry. I promise. I think you'd like him. He's a kind man, gentle and caring. He gets me, and he's tough with me when I need it."

Arya still looked a bit skeptical, until Sansa said softly, "I showed him Ben's scrapbook."

Arya's entire body language shifted, as she understood the significance of such an event. "Oh, San, that's amazing. How was he with it?"

Sansa bit back the sob.

"Good, you know. I mean, as good as he could be. I made it halfway through before I totally melted down. I fell asleep on him."

"Did you drool on him?"

Sansa felt her face redden. "Maybe."

"And he came back for more? Keeper, sister. The man's a keeper."

The sisters laughed, before Arya said gently, "I just don't want you to get hurt, Sansa. I'm happy for you. I mean that. But you're still my sister, and Jaime is still, well, Jaime."

"I get it. I'm taking things slow. Like molasses slow. It's nice. There isn't a lot of pressure, and we have this rock-solid foundation. We're friends, and he knows what I've been through. He's nothing like what the media portrayed him as."

"And the cheating?"

Sansa sighed, knowing that would be a huge sticking point for her sister. "Can I hate a decision someone made without thinking they are a bad person?"

Arya cocked her head as if to contemplate that.

'"Hmmm. I mean, sure. We all make mistakes. But why did he stay with her?"

Sansa shook her head and sipped her now lukewarm tea.

"I mean, a lot of it is private, but he knew her before she met Robert. She was socially ambitious, and he wasn't. He fell in love. Then she married for status and broke his heart. I don't know. I think she was good at manipulating him, not that it's an excuse. I think sometimes we fall in love with people who aren't always the best for us."

Arya sighed.

"Yeah, fair enough."

"Harry and I wouldn't have made it. Even if Ben lived," Sansa said, out loud to her sister for the first time.

When Arya didn't argue, Sansa knew that her sister had seen that her marriage was on shaky ground long before she had.

"But you knew that, didn't you." Arya could be very observant. She shrugged.

"What do you want me to say? Harry was an ass. When you told me you were pregnant, you said you hadn't messed up your birth control. But we all knew that he needed the perfect family, and that included a child. You weren't quite ready for a baby, Sansa. It just seemed… highly convenient that when Harry wanted a family, suddenly, you were knocked up. And the guy was kind of a pretentious ass," she added.

Sansa was still reeling from the idea that Harry might have messed with her birth control to get pregnant. But when she thought back to that time, she wouldn't put it past him.

"Bastard," Sansa hissed. Not that regretted it since she'd gotten Ben out of it, because she loved her son more than anyone else on earth. Sansa would always, always choose Ben, even with the pain of his death and illness. But it was the manipulation that galled her.

"If I ever see him," Sansa muttered.

"Sorry," Arya mumbled. "I just sort of figured you knew. And with Ben, and you loved him so much…"

"Yeah, I love my son. I will always love him, Arya. Forever. And I will always have Ben because of Harry. But I'm so pissed right now, thinking that he manipulated the situation I’m pissed. And not even because he really wanted a child, but because of the 'image' it would present."

"San, I'm sorry…" Arya started to say before Sansa was shaking her hear.

"I have to go," Sansa bit out. She felt the familiar waves of anger, rage, disappointment and now humiliation wash over her. How many different ways could Harry betray her?

"Sansa, I'm sorry. You were so happy, and I should have kept my mouth shut," Arya tried to say.

"I was. I am. I mean, fuck," Sansa whispered, pulling at the blanket. Who did that to someone they claimed to love?

"Harry is an ass, San. A total and complete ass."

Sansa sniffed and nodded, looking down. She couldn't meet her sister's eyes. She felt like a total idiot.

When she said nothing more, Arya eventually told her to keep in touch, and Sansa pushed her laptop onto the table, thinking about the epically bad choice that had been Harry Harding. She hated how everyone had seen Harry for what he was but her. Yes, she got Ben out of her marriage, but how had she been so blind to Harry’s faults? It wasn’t even like he was that subtle about them.

She must have laid there for a while because eventually, her phone chimed. Thinking it was her sister, Sansa eventually reached for it and was pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t.

**Jaime: Hey woman I am woo-ing. Wait a second. Does that make me to woo-er and you the woo-ee? LOL. That's almost like calling you a Wookie.**

Sansa snorted. Jaime texted like he talked – as if the thoughts just poured out of his mouth as they came to him. It was very honest and very endearing. There was nothing fake about Jaime, which was somewhat shocking considering Jaime was a Lannister.

**Sansa: LOL. Funnyman. Also, didn't know you were a Star Wars fan. Nerd. 🤓**

**Jaime: Tell no one. It'll ruin my image. Also 4 points for knowing it was Star Wars but -12 for calling me a nerd.**

**Sansa: What image? Everyone already knows you as Prince Charming. And of course, I know SW– I have three brothers and lived with uber-nerd Sam Tarly in Oldtown.**

**Jaime: I'm hurt. Seriously hurt Sansa.** **🤨** **🤓**

 **Sansa:** **🙄 You'll recover, I'm sure.**

Sansa felt her spirits life, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Jaime made it impossible to stay in a bad mood. He was just so positive.

**Jaime: Ok, now that I've shown you, my inner nerd, I heard a rumour that Mayra's going lemon tomorrow at the café. Squares, muffins, cake. 🍋🧁🍰**

**Sansa: Oh? Lemon, you say. And what makes you think I like lemon?**

**Jaime: Good try. I'm a detective woo-ee. 🕵️‍♂️ That means I know things. Important things!**

**Sansa: How?**

**Jaime:** **😝I have my sources. Now I'm not saying these people are vicious, but if I were you, I'd get there early. Or, for a bribe, I could score you something.**

**Sansa: A bribe? What kind of bribe?**

**Jaime: Hmmm. Now that's the question, isn't it?** **🧐🤔**

**Sansa: LOL. Jaime!**

**Jaime: Tell you what, you meet me there, and I'll let you buy me a coffee and a treat. As payback. And I promise you won't be disappointed.**

**Sansa: Alright, but this counts as one for me.**

**Jaime: One what?**

**Sansa: A date.**

**Jaime: How do you figure?**

**Sansa: We are meeting a predetermined location and time, and I'm buying. Ergo, a date!**

**Jaime: Alright. I hand my woo-er crown to you, tomorrow, dear Sansa.**

**Sansa: See you at 8 am. Sharp!**

**Jaime: See you tomorrow.**

Sansa cuddled her phone against her chest. Somehow Jaime made her feel good. She'd been in an utter shit mood after talking to her sister and learning how much of a scumbag her ex was. And now she had another date! She took her phone out and typed before she lost her nerve.

**Sansa: Jaime – Just …. Thank you.**

**Jaime: You're welcome. Sleep well, my Sansa.**

She clutched her phone against her, humming as she got ready for bed, suddenly looking very forward to the next morning.

* * *

As promised, Jaime was waiting outside the café when Sansa pulled up the next morning at 7:57 am. She had to admit, and she liked a punctual man. It meant he valued his time with her.

Unable to keep the grin at bay, she hopped out of her vehicle and hurried to meet him. As promised, there was a small line up inside the café, including Wyn and Pod, Dacey, Tormund, Brienne and the girls, and Sandor.

"These treats must be good to get this crew out here this early," Sansa said.

She walked right up to Jaime and pecked a kiss on each of his cheeks – very informal and friendly, something that she'd learned in Oldtown and how friends there greeted one another.

Before she could step back too far, he grabbed one of her hands, a shy smile on his face.

"I told you, you won't regret this."

Jaime's eyes were on her, as they stood holding hands outside the café.

He squeezed her hand and then added, gently, "We don't have to hold hands. If it's too much …"

She stopped him, with another squeeze to his hand.

"Nope. This is my date, Jaime. I'm the woo-er, so we do this my way." She smiled at him.

"As long as you're alright with this?"

Perhaps Jaime didn't want to be seen with her after the way everyone knew she'd treated him.

"Stop. I want to hire a skywriter, Sansa, to tell everyone that I’m the man you’re wooing. This is perfect," he told her, sincerity ringing in his voice.

She took a deep breath, then straightened her spine and nodded.

"Then let's do this."

Jaime opened the door for her, and they stepped inside, together, hand in hand. Thankfully, the people gathered seemed far more interested in Mayra's lemon day treats then they did her and Jaime so that they could take their place in line.

Nora waved when she saw Sansa and came running over, ready to discuss the latest novel that she was reading.

Sandor just grunted and gave them a nod.

Pod was too busy trying to decide on what treat her wanted, while Wyn smiled indulgently at him.

When it was their turn, Sansa's eyes widened at the 'lemon selections.'

_Muffin._

_Bar._

_Smoothie._

_Scone._

_Danish._

_Tart._

_Cake._

_Loaf._

_Donut._

_Brownie._

All lemon with some variation. It was a feast, the likes of which she'd never seen. She almost believed that Jaime had arranged for this, but it was evident by the crowd that Mayra had done this before. Lemon day was nothing new on the island of Skene apparently.

"Oh my god," she groaned, her mouth-watering.

She loved lemon baking so very much. She bumped her shoulder against Jaime's.

"You did this on purpose."

She gave him a pout and watched as his nostrils flared, the desire was unmistakable. For a moment, neither said a word, as the air between them almost crackled with want.

"Three." He held up three fingers in front of her face.

Sansa blinked. "What?"

"You get to pick three."

She blinked again, a few times, then frowned and shook her head.

"Did you seriously just tell me I only get three treats?"

"Trust me. Anymore than three and it is almost too much of a good thing," he warned her.

"But there are ten things," she pouted again, sticking her lower lip out.

"I'll choose three, and you choose three, and that makes six. Plus, you'll order a latte, so the smoothie is out. That means, there are only three you are missing out on," Jaime reasoned.

He wasn't wrong, and she did know that there was way too much here for her to eat all at once. Then she brightened!

"Sandor!" she exclaimed.

"Sandor?" Jaime asked, frowning.

He looked around and saw the big man sitting at a table by himself, already through his muffin and sipping black coffee.

"Yes, Sandor. He can share with us."

Jaime's jaw dropped as Sansa smirked.

"You're inviting Sandor on our date?"

Sansa patted Jaime on the chest.

"Don't worry, and I'm buying."

She was grinning as she stepped up to order.

"I'll have a cappuccino and a skinny latte and one of each of the treats!" she declared triumphantly as she paid for it all. 

Jaime groaned but helped her carry her bounty over to the table where Sandor sat.

"What the fuck is this?" he said, frowning at them.

"We're joining you. With treats!" she announced.

Sandor grunted as Jaime put the food on the table.

"I'll get extra plates and forks and our drinks," he told them.

Sansa took a seat, took off her jacket, and hung her purse over her chair's back.

"Are you two on a date?" Sandor muttered as he glanced to where Jaime was shamelessly flirting with Mayra.

Sansa shrugged. "We're wooing each other."

Sandor's frown deepened. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Sansa grinned. "I think it's sort of a mixture between courting and dating."

"What is courting?"

"Well, courting, to my understanding, is dating but with intention."

"Intention?"

"Yeah, intention," Sansa said, waving a hand. "Like, it's knowing it is more than just casual dates or hookups from the very start of when you start to see one another. It's being with a person that you know you like, but with no games. You both know that you are interested in the other person and no one else. It's taking care of each other, and taking things at a pace where you really build something strong – a rock-solid foundation. It’s doing these things for each other with intention. You're not doing this casually – it means something, from the start."

Sandor gave a slow nod, thinking about her words, as Jaime came back. He put the extra plates and forks on the table, along with the coffee, and gently squeezed her shoulder. He’d heard her.

"I think wooing also means being romantic. Really thinking about what the other person might like or enjoy. It's spending quality time with each other and not rushing things."

Jaime gave a little shrug, not at all embarrassed about his views that might seem old fashioned to some, but which he had learned the hard way were just him. Jaime had always wanted a grand romance, and that came from taking care of the person you were with, stating your intentions and following through.

"Things seemed so harried and busy these days, and with all those dating apps, does anyone really take the time to get to know the other person before they just jump into bed?"

Sansa turned and beamed at him, pleased he understood it. There was no mistaking the desire they had for each other, and if anything, this wooing seemed to make it burn even hotter.

"And you two are doing this?" Sandor asked, looking between them. “Wooing?”

"We are! I asked Jaime to woo me."

Sansa hardly noticed the rapt attention that Pod, Brienne, Tormund and Wyn were paying to their little table. She knew the entire island would know by nightfall that her and Jaime were dating.

"So if you two are wooing each other, and I still think that's a stupid name, then why the fuck are you at my table?"

"Lemon desserts," Sansa announced. "Jaime would only let me get three. And he gets three. Which left three I couldn't sample if I didn't have someone else's help."

Shaking his head at her, she grabbed a fork and took a bite of the lemon square. And moaned. It was delicious. The two men just sat there, staring at her, almost in disbelief.

"Try some," she said, waving her fork.

Jaime just sipped his cappuccino.

"You go first."

Shrugging and uncaring that Jaime was going to see her pig out, Sansa dug in. She took bites of each, commenting on each of them as if she were a judge at some fancy baking contest. Eventually, both Jaime and Sandor joined in, talking about things that people on Skene seemed obsessed with – weather, fishing, their neighbours. No topic was off limits.

She was content just to observe as others stopped by their table. Mayra came and gave them refills on their drinks, and slowly but surely, they ate their way through the first hour of the morning. It was one of her most pleasant and relaxing moments on the island, and Sansa loved how she was just accepted by the locals.

At one point, Jaime draped his arm around the back of her chair, and she couldn't help but move her chair closer to him. She liked how coupley it made them, without any pressure. They were just there, together, with intention.

When Sandor eventually rose, he gave them both a somewhat cryptic look and then left them alone.

"Good wooing?" Sansa asked, turning so she was facing just Jaime.

He gave her a soft grin and nodded.

"Great wooing. Crown worthy.”

Pleased with herself and the entire morning, Sansa cupped his cheek. Jaime had a bit of stubble on his face, and she found she liked it. Harry was always cleanly shaven. The scruff was hot and so very, very Jaime.

"I'm glad. But now I need to go to work," she told him.

"Pity," he said but nodded, rising and holding out his hand for her.

It was a pity they couldn’t spend more time together but also quite lovely because she knew that Jaime would plan their next date. And whatever it was, it was sure to be spectacular.

"Thanks for the tip about the lemons," she said when she finally got back to her vehicle.

She turned and found Jaime had stepped closer, his eyes blazing bright green. There was a moment when she thought he might kiss her, but he didn't.

Sansa didn’t even dare to breathe. He leaned in closer and then said, "Have a wonderful day, Sansa."

She felt her heart race, palms damp. The sheer want she had for this man threatened to stagger her.

Then he stepped back, gave her a smirk as if he knew the effect he had on her.

He turned to go to the station, leaving Sansa wanting more and hoping that this delicious dance between the two of them never ended.

No one had ever made her feel like Jaime, and she wasn't ready to give up this delightful tension that was building between them.

Even she knew that something extraordinary was happening here on the island of Skene.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be after the Northern Lights date!
> 
> More dates to come - I know this is slow burn, but I hope there is enough sweet Jaimsa moments to keep you still interested.


	15. A fly in the ointment?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa plans another date for her and Jaime, and Jaime goes to Pub Night with the guys, where he begins to suspect something happened on the storm weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We needed some tension, didn't we? Some angst? Things were going so well, right?
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_ Sansa asks Jaime to take her on a tour of the island  _

Sansa had woken up when Jaime urged her to her feet after falling asleep in his arms, under the northern lights. She'd been grumbly as he helped her inside and upstairs to her bed. She’d heard him as he’d banked the fire and turned off the lights in her little cottage, before slipping out.

She'd entertained the idea of asking him to stay but knew she wasn't quite ready for that – not just yet. It had been incredible to fall asleep with his arms around her, but asking him to spend the night in her bed, when they hadn’t even kissed yet had been a bit much for her.

Now, hours later, she awoke on a Saturday morning, and her first thought was Jaime.

Jaime and their dates.

Jaime and the way he was taking this time to get to know her – moving at her speed.

It was heady stuff and she snuggled deeper into her covers, giggling a little bit. She’d even told Arya about him! That was huge in Sansa’s world.

Lying in bed, Sansa thought about their dates. There had been the first time at the café, followed by storytime. Then there was the lemon date, and now, Northern lights. All of them had been memorable in their own way, and all of them had built her confidence. It was clear that Jaime thought she was worth the effort, and even if they were moving slowly, the heat and passion were there.

But neither one of them was in a position to just throw themselves, heedlessly into a relationship. They were both scarred and had been through their own personal hells. Sansa wanted more than just a physical, itch to scratch thing with Jaime.

Sansa liked this wooing, the courtship and the dance that came from getting to know someone. And she was eager to learn more about him, which was why she was excited the next date was hers to plan!

Mid-March in Skene meant the weather could go either way. It might be a beautiful, warm sunny spring day. Or it could be cold, rainy and wet. She turned and gazed out the window, seeing it was sunny. Without overthinking it, she reached out for her phone, shocked that it was already 9 am. Sansa never slept this late. Ever since Ben had gotten sick, insomnia was more often her friend than not.

Humming merrily, Sansa sent Jaime a message.

**Sansa: My turn to be the woo-er, Han. How does a picnic lunch sound? I mean, if you don't have plans today.**

**Jaime: Han? LOL. Funny Leia. As for you feeding me, well, it sounds perfect. And you’re not too, sleepy? I heard someone kept you up very late in a very non-booty call type date.**

**Sansa: Nope. I feel good, but it'll take me a few hours to pack the lunch. I need a tour guide.**

**Jaime: A tour guide? And you picked me? I’m flattered.**

**Sansa: Yup. I thought you could show me the ruins.**

**Jaime: I'd love to. Noon? 1? What works for you?**

Sansa thought about what she had to get packed. She had some leftover ham, with freshly baked bread. Cheese and apples, and some veggies, along with a few bottles of white wine and some cookies would round out the menu.

The only thing she really had to do was make a treat. She knew how much Jaime loved her baking, and lord knew she loved to bake for the man. The sounds that came out of his mouth had fuelled more than one late-night fantasy.

**Sansa: Noon is perfect, Jaime.**

**Jaime: See you then.**

Sansa hopped out of bed, hurrying around to get dressed. She'd take a shower when she had her coffee cake baking and put the picnic together as she had her breakfast.

Three hours later, she was just brushing on some light pink lip gloss when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she called, smiling at Jaime as he entered. He glanced around, spotted the basket she had packed and sniffed the air.

"What's that?"

"Coffee cake," she told him.

She wrapped the still warm dessert in a tea towel and held it close to her just as Jaime reached for it.

“It can’t go into the basket, or else it'll spoil the other food," she told him, smacking his hand lightly as he reached for it. 

“Wait.”

“It smells too good to wait,” he said, wiggling those eyebrows suggestively. He’d leaned in and took a giant sniff – of what she wasn’t quite sure.

“I just want to nibble,” he purred. “You always smell so sweet.”

Pure lust shot through Sansa, making her bite back the moan that threatened to erupt. She wanted him to taste her everywhere. Sansa could only imagine that making love with Jaime would be a transcendent experience. The man was too good looking for anyone’s peace of mind, least of all hers.

“Behave,” she managed to choke out, somehow finding her willpower to not push him to the floor and lick him from head to toe.

“Oh my Sansa, I am.” His eyes were like emeralds, clear and so very green, and did nothing to hide just how much Jaime wanted her.

Their gazes held and for one second, Sansa wondered what the harm would be in dragging him upstairs to her bedroom and feasting on Jaime.

But the moment was broken as he grabbed the basket.

“Time to go and see the ruins,” he said as if he hadn’t just made her panties very, very damp. As if they hadn’t just all but eye fucked each other and talked about licking and eating and sucking.

Gods, this man! How could he be so calm when there was this storm of needs and wants swirling through her body.

Grumbling about men that were teases, Jaime waited, grinning, as she gathered the small bag she'd packed, with an extra sweater, a rain jacket, a blanket and a hat. Then he held out his hand, and grinning, she took it, stepping out into the bright spring sunshine.

Today was going to be a good day, she just knew it.

They got their side by side packed, and then Jaime put it in gear, bumping back across the bridge that connected her cottage to the rest of Skene.

"So, where to first?" she asked him, intrigued.

"I thought I'd show you where the puffins come in."

Excitement thrummed through Sansa as they drove, occasionally chatting, but comfortable with each other now that the silence was pleasant and not a sign they had nothing to say to one another. Everyone knew that the puffins were an integral part of life on Skene, and Sansa was thrilled she was finally getting to see where they nested.

"I felt like I'd come to a different planet when I first showed up here," Jaime said eventually, breaking the silence.

They'd taken windy and twisty roads that led past even more remoted houses. In the distance, Sansa could occasionally see a ruin or a farmhouse. Some seemed abandoned, while others thrived, the livestock dotting the hills. And everywhere it was green, spring bringing life back to the island. It was a perfect day, with the blue sky and white, puffy clouds.

"I can imagine. How long were you in King's Landing?"

"Twenty years. Addam, that's my best friend and me, we transferred when we were 24. My goal was always to become a detective, and while Lannisport is a city of a decent size, I knew the best of the best were in King's Landing."

Sansa did the math and realized that Jaime was 46. Certainly not too old for a second chance at love. Many men had a family at such an age.

"I understand. I left the North as soon as I could. Studied my butt off in high school and earned a full-ride academic scholarship to Oldtown. I was out of there as soon as I had my diploma in my hand.”

"Why leave the North?" Jaime asked her, interested.

"I never felt like I fit here. Or maybe it was more my family," she said, looking out, spotting the ocean in the distance.

She loved the ocean, how big and powerful it was, how timeless it felt. The ocean called to her, and it was part of why she loved Skene so much. Sansa knew that for hundreds of generations, people had stood on beaches and looked out to the horizon, wondering what was out there. Shaking herself from the thoughts of the past, she turned back to Jaime.

"Don't get me wrong. I love my family. They are great. Loud, loving, fun. But they were also loud, loving and fun. I needed something different. Oldtown was as different from the North as I could find. Plus, it is the best university in Westeros.”

Jaime gave her a little smile and a nod.

"I know exactly what you mean. My family, though small, is a lot."

They gave each other a knowing look and drove for a while in silence until Jaime came to one of the remotest parts of the island. He parked the vehicle on the top of a hill that overlooked the ocean, the curve of the cliffs evident. It was wild and untamed, and so gorgeous Sansa sucked in a breath.

"Oh, wow," she breathed out, leaning forward.

She missed the soft smile Jaime threw her way, only realizing he was there when he said they could get out.

"They nest on these cliffs, in pairs. Then dive into the ocean for fish. I can watch them for hours," Jaime told her as they walked to the edge of the cliff.

Wisps of the nests from last year remained, here and there, but for the most part, this land was dormant, waiting for their return.

"When do they come?" Sansa asked excitedly. She couldn't wait to see the puffins and their babies! Pufflings!

"A few weeks. Mance will let us know. He has a knack for it.”

“I’m so excited to see them.”

Jaime smirked.

“Just remember, with the puffins, come the tourists. Skene is a different island for the spring and summer months. It's fun, but always a bit of a relief when they all go home."

Sansa reached for his hand and slotted it inside hers. She knew Jaime felt he had to go back to King's Landing when his term was over, so she bet he didn't even realize how fondly he spoke of the island. It was clear that he loved it here, as she was coming to. It was the perfect mix for her – something new, something cozy, close enough to Winterfell that she wasn’t too far from her family, but far enough that they couldn’t just ‘pop’ by.

Briefly, Sansa wondered what might happen at the end of the year, when Jaime felt he had to go back south. Even with these feelings building between them, Sansa would never stand in his way when he went to leave. She understood it was something he felt he had to do.

If Jaime wanted Skene, he had to choose it for himself – free from being ordered here by an angry boss, guilted into staying by the locals or forced to stay through an ultimatum from her.

Sansa already knew she would let Jaime leave without any guilt. Besides, there were many ways to make a relationship work and Jaime was worth it. Long-distance wasn’t out of the question, and she had a feeling he’d come back to her. He loved this place too much to stay away.

For now, though, they spent an hour walking along the cliff, the only two people in the world. She had her phone with her, so she took some pictures, including a few selfies. She knew Arya would get a kick out of seeing her here. Sansa was not a 'rural' type person, but this place was in her soul, and each day, she fell more in love with the island.

After an hour at the puffin cliffs, as Sansa called them, Jaime's stomach rumbled, and she urged him to take her to the ruins.

"Which ones? We have several," he said.

"Any of them," she said. "Or anyone we won't get in trouble for setting up a picnic lunch at."

"Oh, Sansa, we won't get into trouble. They belong to the locals, and that my dear, is us.”

He winked at her and she melted a bit, trusting him. If Jaime said they could visit the ruins, she knew they could.

“Hmmm, I have one I like, and it's generally pretty empty."

"Sounds great."

Fifteen minutes later, Jaime pulled up over a little hill where there were three substantial megalithic structures. They stood like giant grey monuments to times gone by.

Sansa was quiet, taking them in. It was awe-inspiring to be so close. In other parts of Westeros, ruins like this were highly regulated, so tourists who flocked to them were kept back and only on special occasions could anyone hope to get close to them.

But Skene was so remote that they almost belonged to the locals. Part of her studies had included a study of people from the neolithic time. They still weren't sure why they built such monuments, but it was clear they had been important to those that lived during that time.

Sansa ran her hand over the rough stone, swearing she heard whispers from people who’d lived thousands of years ago. She wondered if they’d loved the island as she did, or if it was a cold and cruel place. Did they love? Have children? Build communities? Or was living here just a way to eke out a meagre existence?

Jaime stood back and let her take in her fill until another rumble from his stomach had her putting aside her own needs to see to feeding them both.

Taking out the blanket and the cake, Jaime grabbed the basket and settled up against one big ruin. Sansa could hardly believe the latitude that they were being given, allowed to just have a picnic, HERE, and she giggled as Jaime poured them both a glass of wine.

"Excellent woo-ing," he told her, wiggling those eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's lovely," she sighed happily, the spring sun warming the stone at her back.

Usually, this would be the point in which Sansa would start to question things.

Were they moving too slow?

Did Jaime want more?

Was he uninterested since they hadn't even kissed yet?

But things just felt so good between them, that she didn't even let her brain go down that road. She was simply in the moment, with a very handsome man who seemed like he couldn't get enough of her.

She unpacked their lunch, loving the appreciative sounds Jaime made as he ate her food. She loved feeding this man. She was beginning to suspect that no one had taken care with Jaime, which was almost a tragedy, in her opinion.

"It's like no one has ever done this for you before," she said, shaking her head as he moaned through a bite of coffee cake.

"No one ever has," he said.

"Seriously? What type of women did you date?"

She wondered if she had overstepped, as Jaime paused for a second and then shrugged.

"Honestly? Not many. Women that is, when it comes to dating.”

Sansa gave him a look. He did look at himself in a mirror each morning, didn’t he? He was so handsome that sometimes she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. And Jaime was kind, funny, smart, and caring. He was a catch.

“Really?”

“Yup, really,” he said, taking another sip of wine.

“There was the obligatory girlfriend in high school, but I hung with my friends more than her and played sports. Then, after high school, there was the focus on the academy and work once I became a cop. I was determined to make my father proud, so that took most of my time and attention. Women just weren’t high on my radar back then.”

He stretched out on the blanket, and Sansa let her eyes roam up and down his lean, long-limbed form.

A few more pieces of the Cersei puzzle fell into place. Sansa had assumed, incorrectly, that Jaime had been quite the ladies' man before he'd met the wicked witch in King's Landing.

Apparently, she'd been wrong, as Jaime blushed and sipped his wine, leaning back to gaze up at her. His face turned serious, and a bit bashful even.

"I've only been with five women my entire life, Sansa. I wasn't who the media painted me to be."

Sansa saw there was uncertainty on Jaime's face, and she knew he had just made himself very vulnerable, telling her the truth behind the false rumours about him.

So she reached out the gentle cup his cheek, loving that he was so much like her.

"I've only been with one man, and that didn't really turn out so well for me. Some of us, well, we just aren't built to sleep around, Jaime. No shame in that."

Since he relaxed immediately, Sansa knew it was the right thing to say. Jaime’s grin was firmly back in place on his handsome face. Secretly, Sansa was pleased that Jaime seemed similar to her and took the physical act of being with a person as seriously as she did. They had so many things in common and spent the afternoon comparing movies they liked, books they'd read, and dreams they had. Sansa felt like she might never run out of things to talk to Jaime about, and had joined him, lying on the blanket, watching the puffy white clouds float by.

They steered clear of politics and family, and anything to do with their exes, until finally, Jaime looked at his watch.

"I promised the guys I'd meet them at the pub. Book club night," he said by way of explanation and then froze.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he started to apologize.

Sansa waved a hand. Mayra had told her it was book club earlier this week when Sansa had been in her café in the afternoon, getting a latte. Sansa still wasn't comfortable going, as she and Val hadn't made up, and Sansa wanted nothing to do with Ygritte, so it hadn't bothered Sansa to decline.

"You're welcome whenever you want. Just know that" May had said. Sansa believed her, but for now, these one on one interactions were better. Sansa was doing her best to avoid groups. If that made her a coward, she didn’t care. This was her journey and she had to navigate it on her own.

"Jaime, stop. Mayra already told me. There isn't much chance of keeping a secret on Skene."

"Thank the gods," he muttered, shaking his head. "Because you know if I had to choose, I'd choose you."

Warmth flood through Sansa, even though she didn't want Jaime to make such a choice. These were his friends. Just because Sansa didn’t get along with a few of them, didn’t mean Jaime shouldn’t be with them.

"Go and be with your friends. I'll take a bath and maybe watch a movie. I'm fine. Honestly."

And she was. Sansa wasn't feeding Jaime a line. She was fine, and she wasn't put out that the women were gathering tonight, and she wouldn't be there. It would have been too much for her, and she wasn't prepared to lose some of her hard-fought victories by doing something she wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with.

When Jaime dropped her off at her cottage, he still looked worried.

"Tell you what. You got to your pub night and when you get home if you haven't had too much to drink, text me. If I'm still up, we'll chat,” she said to him.

He said nothing for a minute, looking between her and her dark cottage.

"Are you sure? I just…" He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. Sansa wanted to do the same, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet.

"Fuck, this might sound sexist, but it's not. I just hate the idea of you being alone. Tonight. When I'm with my friends, and some of the women you like are together. It feels wrong, somehow, that you are by yourself.”

Deeply touched by his concern for her, Sansa reached over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I like how much you care for me, Jaime. More than just how much you want me or how much fun we have together. No one has ever cared about me like you. Thank you for that."

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek, brushing his lips across the palm.

"I do, care, Sansa."

"I know. Now, go have fun with your friends and text me later. I promise you, if I'm super lonely or miserable, I’ll send you an SOS."

Reluctantly, he nodded and let her go, thanking her for their day together.

Once inside, Sansa flicked on the light, still over the moon pleased with how things had gone. She'd had a fantastic day, and now, she was ready to wind down, plug in her laptop, veg out to Netflix, and watch what she wanted.

She might not even make dinner, and that was one of the simple joys of having no one but herself to answer to. She knew Jaime was worried, but she wasn't lonely. Not anymore. Not with him in her life, and slowly but surely, making his way into her heart.

* * *

_ Jaime and Pub Night _

Jaime didn't like driving away from Sansa's cottage, leaving her there all by herself. He knew she said she was fine, and he believed her. She wasn't a liar, and she didn't tell him things just to make him feel better. If she said she was good tonight, she would be.

But still.

He'd be at the pub tonight with his friends, and all their wives or girlfriends would be together at Jon and Val's place. And Sansa would be alone. He hated that thought.

Jaime had watched as Sansa had tried hard over the past few weeks to integrate herself into life on Skene, but it was difficult with these people that had known each other for so long.

People like Mayra and Jeyne, who were a little less when it came to the big personality scale, she seemed comfortable even.

Others, like Ygritte and Val, Sansa had confessed that she still wasn't ready to be friends. And that had been fine. Sansa shouldn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.

"I know the stuff with Val isn't fair. I know that I'm projecting a lot of my issues onto her life. And I also know that her life isn't perfect – even if it looks that way. But I’m just not ready to make up with her.”

This had been one of their talks at the library one afternoon when Jaime had brought her a latte.

Jon had resumed bringing Lyanna to storytime, and Sansa's guilt seemed to be at an all-time high when it came to Val Snow.

"Sansa, you're allowed to not be perfect either. I do think that you'd like Val, and she is a lovely woman. But it's not hard to see she has the life you thought you would, and that there is tension there."

Sansa had sighed, and mumbled, "She's too perky. I can't do perky these days."

Jaime had grinned and left it. He wouldn't push her to be friends with anyone she wasn't comfortable with. And besides, it had only been a few months. Maybe they'd find some common ground one day.

In the meantime, it hadn't stopped Jaime from being friendly with everyone, although there had been something off with some of the locals since the storm.

Sandor, Pod, Brienne, Wyn, Tormund, Bronn, Jon and Val.

Those eight had been acting odd around Jaime, and tonight seemed like as good a night as any to figure out why.

Jaime knew the image he presented on Skene. He'd deliberately made himself warm and welcoming as required to adapt to being the chief of police on a small, remote island.

He hadn't exactly hidden his particular skill set from those that lived here, but none had seen the keen and sharp-edged detective that Jaime had been while in King's Landing. There was a reason that Jaime was a rising star in the department, and why the affair had been so bad for him professionally.

Jaime had been very, very good at his job. Jaime was missed in King’s Landing and not easily replaceable. It was why he felt an obligation to go back.

And while Skene might not have the great mysteries to solve that King's Landing did, nor the violent crime that occupied most of Jaime’s profession when he’d been in the capital, his observation skills were no less excellent here than they were in the south. Especially when it came to those who had no idea they were under surveillance.

The worst at concealing their thoughts were definitely Jon, Pod and Sandor.

Jaime's first clue that the meddlers had something to do with him ending up at Sansa's cottage on the day of the now-infamous storm had been when Sandor had arrived at her cottage that Sunday, looking both guilty and relieved.

Pod had asked too many eager questions about the storm weekend, while Jon's eyes almost always slid away from Jaime's, indicating that he had definitely known something was up.

Jaime hadn't pushed it, because, for the most part, things had worked out.

He and Sansa were better than ever, and Jaime knew that had they not been forced to share a space on the storm weekend, that they'd most likely still be at the stage where they were making polite conversation with one another.

But despite a favourable outcome, it rankled Jaime that they'd interfered, again, with Sansa.

They hadn't known what she was running from, and if they had done something to force them together, it could have been disastrous.

What if she'd been escaping an abusive relationship?

What if she was a battered woman?

What if she had been harmed, and being forced to share her living space with a man had been her nightmare?

Yes, things had worked out between them, but they (the meddlers) hadn't known, and they'd interfered, of that Jaime was almost certain.

And now he was headed into the pub while his …. While Sansa sat alone, in her cottage.

No matter what the others said, the damage had been done that first time at the book club. Knowing what Sansa had been through, Jaime didn't blame her for being wary of some women. He just didn’t know if she’d ever be able or willing to rebuild that bridge, and if she ever found out about their continued interference, it might make her leave the island.

Jaime knew if that were to happen, he’d follow her. He already knew he’d be welcomed back in King’s Landing, and he wouldn’t just leave Sansa to run away again, alone and by herself. She had to know that someone in her life was going to stick – and that someone was Jaime.

When he got to the pub, Jaime realized he was one of the last ones there. What had once been a comfortable and familiar night now had him on edge, and he took a spot at the end, slightly apart from the others.

Jaime settled in, with his regular dark lager, and the stew that Bronn reassured him was beef. He listened to the conversation flow around him, and found himself enjoying the sameness of it. He’d heard all these topics discussed before, but it was that comfort in the familiar that made it so great.

Skene relied equally on their animals, and the tourists and the talk were about livestock and when the puffins would make their grand entrance. There were discussions on the catch of the day, by Davos, the two baby kids Jon and Val had almost lost and when the shops would open for the season.

Through it all, Jaime realized that these weren't bad people, just nosy and interfering. By and large, they were happy and had found their place in this world. It was almost inconceivable to them that someone might not know where they fit. Jaime knew that they just wanted Sansa to be happy. Good intentions, questionable execution.

Eventually, as he knew it would, talk turned to Jaime and Sansa and their dates.

Somehow, even though he'd only left Sansa a few hours ago, their date to the ruins was already well known, along with the one underneath the stars and the Northern Lights.

"That was me," Tormund said, proudly thumping his chest, beaming.

Jaime held his beer up in a mock salute.

"Well played, wildling."

"So things are good?" Jon asked, voice quiet.

There was an intensity to him that Jaime often forgot when his pretty wife and his charming daughter took over the spotlight.

"They are," Jaime said, giving a slow tilt to his head.

"Why?"

Jon said nothing, his eyes sliding away. "No reason. I'm just glad. Less tension on the island. And Sansa is a good woman.”

"Less tension?" Jaime said, a bite to his words.

It grated on his nerves that these people seemed to think it was fine to become involved in not only his life but Sansa's. And that they were somehow blaming her for things being tense. She should have been welcomed, and instead, women like Val and Ygritte had made her uncomfortable.

Jon's eyes, grey, Jaime realized, were almost smoky in the light. Jon ran a hand through his dark curls, sensing Jaime’s simmering anger.

"Look, it's clear that Sansa has been through something. And while I get that she and my wife got off on the very wrong foot, she seems like a good person. If being with you makes her happy, then I'm glad. That's all."

For some reason, Jon's answer rubbed Jaime the wrong way. Sansa was a great person, but these people didn't know her – not as he did. And they just made assumptions, not understanding the things that she was facing. Jaime knew that others had guessed at what had happened to Sansa, but only he knew the entire truth.

Jaime leaned in, and his eyes narrowed, so only Jon could hear him. What he had to say, Jon needed to hear.

"Sansa is the best person I’ve ever met. What she has gone through would bring lesser people to their knees. She's incredible. But I'm telling you now, and you can pass this message to the others – if anyone on this island hurts her, either intentionally or otherwise, they'll answer to me. And trust me when I say, you don’t want an angry lion on your hands, Snow.”

Jon swallowed hard and nodded. "Fair enough."

"Good,” Jaime bit out, pissed with the lot of them. He knew his anger was irrational, but he didn’t give a fuck. He would defend Sansa from them all, if needs be.

Jaime rose and threw down a couple of twenties on the table, more than enough to cover his tab.

"Lyanna and Val still expect you at the house tomorrow," Jon said, and Jaime's respect for the man grew. He'd just laid down the gauntlet when it came to Sansa, and yet, Jon wasn’t letting his visit go. 

"I'll be there," Jaime told Jon.

It wasn't in his top ten things he wanted to do on a Sunday, but he knew Lyanna would be disappointed if he didn't show up. So he’d go, for her.

Then he was out the door even as he heard the others call his name. Being the eternal bachelor, Jaime always stayed to the bitter end with the guys, but not tonight. He was too keyed up, edgy and angry to stay.

All he wanted was Sansa, but he knew she'd be tucked away in her little cottage. Fuck did he want to be with her.

He hadn't realized that when he'd told Sansa he'd let her set the pace, that he wouldn't even kiss her until she made the first move, that he had set himself up for such torture.

Jaime was falling for Sansa, fast and hard. Harder than he'd ever fallen for Cersei, which was saying something, considering how much he’d given up to be with her. Shaking his head from Cersei, he brought Sansa’s smile to mind. He loved it when she found something she enjoyed and had liked seeing her run her hands over the ruins today as if she’d never seen anything so magnificent.

He thought about her all the time, was in equal turns amazed and proud of her, and could imagine a life with her – together. He’d take her anywhere she wanted to go, show her all the amazing sights Westeros had to offer.

His future was still somewhat vague and uncertain, and exactly where Sansa fit, he wasn’t sure, mostly because he didn’t know where he’d end up. Jaime still felt an obligation to King's Landing and the people he served there, but they had universities there, right? Along with excellent school districts and beautiful homes.

Jaime was sure that they could work something out because he knew that whatever he was feeling, so was Sansa. She was the one. The only one. The one he’d been waiting his entire life for.

There were no games between them. Things were real and open and honest. She liked the man that Jaime kept hidden from so many, the man that liked romance and tender touches. But he was also just a man.

And gods, did he want her. She was in his heart, in his blood, and he wanted to kiss her until she was breathless and then do it all over again. Jaime wanted to spend the entire weekend with her, not because of some storm and interfering friends, but because Sansa had invited him there, wanted him there.

Instead, he had to settle for texting her when he was home, scotch in the tumbler at his hand, an unopened book on his lap.

**Jaime: Good evening. This is your woo-er checking in. How was your evening?**

**Sansa: Good. I had a bath, did some more baking, and now I'm organizing the kitchen. How was pub night?**

**Jaime: It was a night.**

**Sansa: That doesn't sound good. Want to talk?**

Jaime snorted in the dark. Did he want to talk? He did, of course. He wanted to share everything with Sansa, but for some reason, he was reluctant to share his suspicions about the meddlers. He knew it would change things – and so far, all he had were his suspicions. No one had 'confirmed' anything. Yet.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaime pressed the little telephone icon on his phone and heard Sansa's voice. Relief coursed through him.

"Hello, Jaime."

"Hello Sansa," he said, unable to help the grin on his face. Something settled in him, hearing her voice. And he loved her name. It rolled off his tongue. Sansa. He wanted to whisper it to her as he thrust inside her.

"Bad night?"

"Interesting night," he countered.

She gave a delicate snort.

"What?"

"Jaime, I know you. What's up?"

He debated what to say and finally settled on the truth.

"I missed you tonight."

He swore he heard her melt over the phone, and it came across in her voice.

"Awww, I missed you as well. What are you up to tomorrow?" she asked.

Jaime hesitated for a single moment before he said, "I told Val and Jon I'd stop by their place. Lyanna wants to show me the baby goats, and Jon talked me into learning how they make their products."

Even though Jaime couldn't see Sansa, he felt the tone of the conversation change. Gone was any flirty banter, any softness. In its place, the woman who was protecting herself. He cursed himself. He should have fucking cancelled going to Jon’s because then he probably would have had an invitation to Sansa’s for breakfast.

"Sounds good. Have fun. Maybe I'll see you on Monday. Have a good rest of your weekend, Jaime."

And just like that, she was gone.

Jaime knew Sansa didn't feel comfortable around Val, and that mentioning that he was visiting them would put a damper on the conversation.

Still, he hadn't quite expected not to see Sansa tomorrow, but it was clear she wanted her space.

He couldn't blame her, didn't blame her. Sansa was clawing her way back to the land of the living, and if Val was a trigger for her, Jaime understood that – he really did. Her staying away from Val Snow was just what she needed to do, and Sansa wasn’t the type of woman to demand that he do so as well, so she’d give him space. Which was the last fucking thing Jaime wanted.

He hurled his glass at the fireplace, taking satisfaction when it shattered.

If she reacted like this to Val, what would it be like when he confirmed his suspicions?

Jaime wondered if she’d even slow down long enough to breathe as she packed her bags to get the fuck off this island where people couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Wishing more than ever that he'd never agreed to go to Jon and Val's and convinced that forces other than nature had been at work on the weekend of the storm, Jaime rose to get ready for bed, not that he’d get much sleep. 

In fact, he was no longer in the mood for anything other than figuring out what had happened on storm weekend, and somehow, making it up to Sansa that he was going to the one place on the island she never wanted to be at.

Jaime knew that Sunday couldn't come soon enough. He'd get through his visit with Jon and his family, and then he'd turn his attention back to Sansa. She was what was important – she was what mattered most to him. And nothing, not even the well-intentioned but nosy residents of Skene would come between them – not if Jaime had anything to say about it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so yes, I understand that Val is NOT a bad person. I really, really, really do. I do. 
> 
> BUT, from Sansa's POV, she just can't 'get' there with Val - she might given time and therapy and understanding. But not yet and that makes Sansa all the more human and I just love her for it. 
> 
> And oh boy, is the meddling going to come to a head or what!!! 
> 
> Buckle up!


	16. Secrets, Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime and Sansa talk, and the truth finally comes out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Whew. Alright. 
> 
> So, let me premise this by saying - stay with me. I am challenging myself to write angst, and then to write reconciliation and forgiveness. So yes, things are a bit harsh right now, but I do have a plan!
> 
> I don't generally believe in angst for angst sake. I know some people don't get how or why Sansa can't just 'like' Val. Beyond the Val having the so-called perfect life that Sansa doesn't have, sometimes people just don't mix. 
> 
> I just hope that people can give me a bit of time with these characters, as there is some major trauma that they are working through. 
> 
> That's all.

* * *

_ [Picset ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/624360634689126400/chapter-16-a-light-by-the-waters-edge-in-which) _

* * *

_ Jaime and the Snow's  _

Jaime's lousy mood did not improve overnight. When he finally fell asleep, he'd been haunted with nightmares of Sansa on a ferry, leaving Skene, leaving him. It was brutal and not outside the realm of possibility, which made it even harsher.

He had finally given up trying to get any amount of sleep at 5 am, blearily stumbling to his kitchen to make coffee.

In the tiny kitchen, he stood there, wishing he was at Sansa's, drinking his coffee black, wondering how big an asshole it would make him if he cancelled on Jon.

Then he pictured Lyanna's pout and the tears. Christ, that girl could cry and knew he wouldn't do that to her. Jaime might be upset with her parents, but he wouldn't take it out on a child.

So Jaime spent Sunday at Jon and Val's, learning more than he'd ever wanted to know about how to make goat milk and goat themed products from said milk.

Lyanna glued herself to him, talking his ear off about princesses. She was still a fan of Merida, but Cinderella had rocketed up the list.

"And you're like Prince Charming from Shrek. Who is kind of not a very nice prince, but that's who you look like, Chief Jaime."

She beamed at him and he couldn’t help the little ache in his heart when it came to thinking about everything he’d missed out on.

“Well I will endeavour to be better than Shrek,” he told her, winking at her and making her laugh, while also correcting him on his error.

Jaime wasn’t Shrek – he was Charming. She had rolled her eyes at Jaime and flounced away. Lyanna might look like Jon, but she was all Val in attitude and confidence.

Spending time with the Snow family had reminded Jaime what he didn't have, at least not yet, and what he desperately wanted. Everything about wooing Sansa was about having what Jon and Val did. Jaime wanted a partner.

He wanted a wife and a family and a home. And he swore that was the road he was on with Sansa. But now? Everything about that dream seemed like it was in jeopardy.

But today was also about something more than just pleasing Lyanna and listening to Jon talk about goat milk. It was about putting his detective skills to the test and seeing if Jon and Val had anything to do with how Jaime had gotten stuck at Sansa's cabin three weeks ago when the storm blew in.

It was more than apparent by the third time Val had offered him a fresh scone and coffee that she was trying to make up for something – something Jaime was beginning to suspect had to do with the storm.

"Val, what's going on?" Jaime asked, making his voice soft and unassuming.

There was more than one way to get someone to 'confess' as Jaime had learned.

She wrung her hands, glancing over to where Lyanna and Jon were mixing up milk and lavender, grown of course in Val's garden. She had her blond hair back in a ponytail and hardly a trace of make-up on, and still, she was a stunningly beautiful woman, made even more so by the fact that she had clearly found her place in life and was happy.

Deeply loved by her husband, adored by friends and a pillar of Skene, Val Snow just belonged here. There was something soothing about being around someone who just knew where she fit in life and was perfectly happy with the life she’d made for herself. Val Snow wasn’t searching for a damn thing – she had it all right here on Skene.

Most times, Jaime really liked that about her. She was unapologetically happy with her life, but it was hard not to compare her to Sansa and see how one had been blessed, while the other had been dealt the worst hand in the deck. 

"Nothing. It's nothing," she said, waving a hand. It was clearly not nothing.

Jaime gave her a look.

"It's just … well… I'm not used to people not liking me Jaime. And I don't know what to do about Sansa."

Jaime grunted, stuffing the scone in his mouth, preventing him from answering immediately.

"And I know you two are close. I mean, everything seemed to change that weekend we got the last big storm, which is great, really. I mean, we were all so happy to learn that you two weren't fighting anymore. But now it seems like nothing I do is going to make Sansa change her mind. And I just don't want to keep avoiding the library, because she is there. And she's great, you know. Everyone raves about Sansa."

Val frowned at that and then blew out a breath.

What Jaime heard was that Val was particularly keyed into the storm weekend and that Val didn't like it when things in her world weren't perfect. Sansa was not falling over herself to clear the air between her and Val, and that was not sitting well with Val.

Suddenly, Jaime had a ton of sympathy for Sansa.

Val was a great woman, but she was mostly standing here complaining because one person on the island didn't like her. A person that Val knew had some type of trauma in her life.

Val couldn't seem to let it go, and Jaime didn't blame Sansa in the least for not wanting to make up with her. Given what Sansa was going through, and how charmed Val's life was, Jaime knew it would be hard for someone like Val to empathize with Sansa. It wasn’t Val’s fault, but she’d never been faced with what Sansa had.

If Val knew what Sansa had gone through, she would look at her with pity, and that wasn't what Sansa needed.

It wasn’t either woman’s fault – they were both products of things that had happened in their lives, but Jaime wasn’t going to go out on a limb for Val. She had an entire community behind her. Sansa had no one but him.

"I'm not going to get in the middle of it, Val."

"But Jon said that you were almost upset at him last night, at the pub. That you warned him to warn us not to be mean to her. But we're not mean, Jaime. She's just hard to get to know, and she hasn't made it easy for me to say sorry."

Jaime gave Val an incredulous look.

"Ever think that maybe that's not her job to make it easy for you?"

Val's mouth dropped open as if she couldn't believe what Jaime had just said.

"Well, I … I mean …. What are you getting at?" she sputtered.

Jaime shrugged, finishing off his scone. He was done here, uncomfortable in a way he had never been before.

"Look, Val, by now you've all figured out that Sansa had something bad happen in her life. Perhaps she's still dealing with that. And maybe, just maybe, you're not the center of her world. Maybe she has bigger things going on than wondering if Val Snow likes her or not."

Jon had arrived at the end of Jaime's little rant, and he frowned. He pulled Val into his arms. Looking at them, Jaime got a pang of envy. They just fit.

"Jaime, we're not the bad guys here. We've welcomed Sansa to Skene. Don’t take that out on Val."

They had. And that’s what made this entire situation really hard. These people weren’t equipped to deal with the trauma that Sansa had suffered – but that didn’t make it Sansa’s job to be a therapist to them all, nor to open up if she didn’t want to. At the same time, it made it hard for people like Val to understand why Sansa didn’t just throw herself into life on Skene. It felt like a no-win situation.

Jaime cocked his head as he made for the barn exit.

"Yeah, but maybe ask yourself for whose sake are you pushing her to fit in? Hers or yours?"

With that, he left, leaving Jon and Val staring at one another.

They weren't bad people, Jaime knew. Jon hadn't exactly had a picture-perfect childhood, and the guy was prone to brooding. Jon and Sansa had also connected, and Sansa liked Jon.

But the more time that Jaime spent around Val, he could see why the woman rubbed Sansa the wrong way. She was kind and sweet, but she was also very used to being the Queen Bee and getting her way. Jon clearly indulged her, as did the other women on the island.

Sansa was the only one that didn’t seem to immediately like Val, and Jaime wasn't going to force that on her.

Not that he didn't like Val – he did. He did think she was a good woman – a great mother and an awesome wife to Jon. She had loads of friends and was well-loved on Skene.

Jaime wasn't pleased with her or Jon right now – not when he felt like they were his friends, and they kept lying to his face, but that had nothing to do with them as people in general.

Something had happened on Storm weekend, and no one was saying a thing. That hurt. More than Jaime cared to admit.

He thought these people were his friends, but what friends lied to you?

He thought about popping by Sansa's little cottage after leaving the Snow's, but it was mid-afternoon, and he had nothing but himself. He sensed that Sansa would want the day by herself, and he was more than willing to give her that space. Not that he liked being by himself, but if he showed up at her place, good manners and breeding would have Sansa inviting him in, when she might not want him there.

Better to head home and regroup, planning something for the next morning.

As Jaime got to the village, he decided he'd put together a little basket of goodies for Sansa. He couldn't cook or bake worth a damn, but Jaime knew how to shop. And with the tourist season almost upon them, several shops were open for business on this Sunday afternoon.

Jaime meandered up and down the cobblestone streets, adding to his growing pile for Sansa.

He had a book on puffins, and another on the history of the islands, including Skene. He’d added a few bottles of white wine that she liked.

There were some bath salts, and something called bath bombs, which the young woman working there assured him that Sansa would love. He purposely didn't buy Val and Jon's stuff, and while that might be petty, it felt right.

He'd found two candles he liked the smell of– one lavender and the other vanilla. His final stop was the florist, where he ordered two dozen rainbow coloured tulips to be picked up tomorrow morning. The reminded Jaime of candy, with their bright and cheery colours.

Pleased with himself, Jaime finally went to the pub, where he'd get dinner before heading home.

It didn't phase him in the least to walk into Bronn's pub with multiple shopping bags. Jaime was a Lannister after all, and shopping was a hobby he'd had since he was a boy. It relaxed him.

Bronn spotted him from behind the bar and called in order of Shepard's pile and set to work to build Jaime's pint.

He delivered it himself, smirking at the bags. Jaime took his first sip, thirstier than he'd realized.

"Shopping?"

"I was," Jaime said, unaffected by Bronn's smirk.

"Only a Lannister," Bronn muttered.

"Tell me," Jaime said, leaning forward. "Did they meet here, Bronn, in your pub, when they planned to trap us together?"

Jaime could tell he'd caught the publican off-guard, as Bronn paled and then darted his eyes around the pub. Since there was only one other person here, there was nowhere for him to escape.

"Fucking hells, I knew you'd figure it out," the man said, shaking his head. "I had nothing to fucking do with it. You know me. Leave well enough alone, I say."

Jaime snorted and shook his head.

"Funny how you didn't think to tell me, though."

Bronn shrugged.

"What was the harm? You two emerged right as fucking rain."

His cook called out that the order was up, and Bronn darted back to the kitchen to get Jaime's meal, leaving the golden lion deep in thought.

That was the rub.

These people wouldn't understand the damage that COULD have been done. All they'd see was the great strides that Jaime and Sansa had made since the storm. Even Val had said as much. The ends had justified the means. It would be tough for them to understand the potential damage their actions might have had, and Jaime worried that some of them would come around, even if he and Sansa were upset at them. All they’d see was that things had worked out.

And if they were to call the meddlers out, it would create an even more significant rift between some of them, and Sansa, which was not Jaime's goal in the least. He liked Skene, but right now, he felt like he’d been used. Lied to and used. Those were familiar feelings to Jaime and not ones he liked having.

Feeling sick, Jaime pushed back his plate and gathered up his purchases. He knew he had to say something to Sansa, and soon, but he wanted to observe a few more people before he dropped the bomb that had the potential to create some real issues on the island of Skene.

This wasn’t a big place, and having him and Sansa at odds with some of the more prominent residents wouldn’t be fun for anyone.

Lonely and missing Sansa, Jaime could only hope that when confronted, those that had conspired to trap them together would understand the impact of their actions and apologize – or else Jaime knew there was a real possibility that Sansa would find no reason to stay on Skene.

* * *

_ Sansa and the Seniors' Tea _

Sansa spent Sunday moping. A good, old fashioned mope.

She hadn't heard from Jaime all day Sunday, which made everything even worse, even though she'd been the one to initiate the space.

She had the best weekend dates with Jaime and had known that he would call her after he went to pub night. Hearing him say he had to spend time at Val and Jon's on Sunday had just hit her like a bucket of ice water.

For some reason, she hadn't expected it. Jaime and Jon got along alright, but Jaime wasn't as close with him as he was with Pod or Tormund. It had caught her by surprise because Jaime had acted like he didn't really want to leave her alone. Then to hear he already had plans and to the one place on Skene where Sansa decidedly did not feel comfortable had made her feel like the outsider she was.

She knew it was her issue and she knew she should get over it. But she just couldn’t go to Val’s. Not yet. Maybe one day.

The past few days, Sansa had been starting to think she'd found her place on Skene and was getting more relaxed when she went into town, especially if she ran into Pod or Mayra, or Tormund and Brienne. Things were easy with them, and Sansa liked that she was starting to make some friends.

But then the Val issue came up again.

Sansa knew that Jaime understood her reluctance to patch things up with the perky blond, and she shouldn't have reacted the way she did when Jaime told her where he was going. She had no rights on his time or where he spent his Sunday mornings. And it was her fault that she didn't want to be around Val. Had it been Sandor's, Sansa knew that Jaime would have invited her along and that she would have gone.

The worst was the moment she'd heard his plans, and she'd heard her voice change and knew that she hadn't fooled Jaime in the least. She'd been passive-aggressive in her chipper retort of _Have a good weekend. Maybe I'll see you on Monday._

And then radio silence from Jaime. Not a single text message or phone call to check on her and see how she was doing. And it was all her fault.

So she was in a really foul mood when Monday morning rolled around. She was angry at herself, of course, but also at Val and Jaime. Logically she knew that wasn't fair, but since when did emotions care about fair? Never.

She avoided Mayra's place and drove straight to the library. Today she was hosting a seniors tea and had spent Sunday baking goodies for the group. It was a drizzly, dreary day, which suited her mood just fine, as she stalked around the library, turning on the lights and getting the heat going.

Usually, Sansa really enjoyed the monthly seniors' tea. They came in a small group and gossiped for a few hours, and she always learned some obscure or fascinating facts about Skene. But today, Sansa had no patience for it at all.

The knock on the locked door had her almost snarl.

Until she saw Jaime, standing there, a small smile on his face. He held a gift bag, a huge bouquet of tulips and a latte, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. She could almost feel the angst radiating from him, and cursing herself and her issues, and she rushed over to let him in.

He shook himself, a bit like a dog, and then thrust out the coffee.

"I come bearing gifts," he said.

Without thinking, Sansa stepped forward and hugged him hard. It took a moment for him to react, for he was stunned with her physical display, until his arms came to encircle her, holding her close.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Please forgive me. I was being petty and bitchy, and I honestly shouldn't have been upset that you were going to Jon and Val's place."

His chest rumbled a bit, and he smelled so good, so she sucked in a deep breath.

"My Sansa, stop," he told her.

She all but melted when he called her _My Sansa._ It was so damn romantic.

She gazed up at him.

"Promise you will forgive me?"

"I don't think there is anything to forgive. If it makes you feel any better, I would have rather spent Sunday with you."

Sansa sighed.

"Yeah, me too. And if I hadn't been so put out, and on my own high horse, you could have come by after you were done with them." She paused and then looked down.

"I missed you," she mumbled, thinking Jaime must think her a right nut case. It was a day.

"Oh, thank god," he said, chuckling, tilting her chin back up, so their eyes met.

"I missed you so much. I wanted to come by, but it was clear you wanted space. So I went shopping instead."

Stunned, Sansa let Jaime take her hand and lead her towards her small office. She was the jerk, and he brought her gifts? She knew that she didn't deserve this man. He was so good, so kind, so compassionate, and she was just this messed up, grieving mother, bitter divorcee.

Lost in her thoughts, she felt Jaime's arms come around her again.

"Stop whatever it is you're thinking. No one is perfect, Sansa. And I can handle you acting a bit crazy from time to time, especially when you have a reason."

"You're too good to me."

"No such thing. And some of these gifts are self-serving."

He winked at her and intrigued now; she opened the large bag.

First was a book on puffins, followed by some candles that smelled divine, and bath goodies that were not Val's. Jaime winked at her then, and she smacked him on the chest.

Then she found the board game, Star Wars monopoly and two bottles of wine. She threw her head back, laughing hard.

"I figure you can make it up to me by cooking me dinner, and then we can play a game."

"Oh, you're on."

"I warn you, and I'm quite competitive."

Those damn eyebrows wiggled, his green eyes flashing with joy, and Sansa found herself falling so hard for him. She loved boyishly charming Jaime.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Jaime, I grew up with four siblings. Trust me, and I can kick your butt."

Smiling broadly now, he winked at her.

"I'll bring a few others, just in case you're too sad from losing the first game."

Sansa's eyes narrowed.

"Two things, Lannister. When I played with my brothers and sister, I was always the banker. And second, I slept with my money if the game didn't end to ensure no one cheated."

He laughed, the richness of the sound chasing away any lingering worries.

"Game on. I look forward to it."

The easiness that was them was back, and Sansa was grateful for it. She hated being at odds with Jaime over anything.

She propped herself up on her desk, and took a sip, moaning on slightly when the caffeine hit her system.

"So, are you here to help out with seniors tea?" she asked him.

"Are there treats?" He had perked up at that question.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course, there are treats. I was just about to set them out."

Sansa took the flowers out front, found a vase, displayed them prominently, and was happy with how cheery they were. She watched as Jaime helped take down chairs, and she puttered around the little kitchen to get the water boiling. They still had a bit of time before the first few would show up, and Sansa found Jaime looking mystery novel.

He flashed her a smile and set the book down, although she noted the author. She'd sign it out for him later.

"Look, I know that you say you can handle me not being perfect. And while I know you can, and that is really, truly amazing, I do want to clear the air."

Jaime's face lost its look of playfulness, and he sat, giving her his full attention. She liked that – how he didn't let himself be distracted when she was talking to him.

Heaving out a breath, she said, "I know that I said I didn't mind that you're friends with Val. And I don't."

She frowned, and then dragged a hand through her hair, pacing a bit.

"I don't know what it is. I was always that person who got along well with everyone, but there is something about her that sets me on edge. And I know that sucks since you are friends with Jon, and this is a super small little village, and I'm making things harder."

Sansa blew out a frustrated breath. She wished she could just get over her issues with Val – or at least plaster a smile on her face and pretend. But the woman rubbed her the wrong way.

She finally stood still and looked Jaime directly in the eyes, feeling bold.

"Look, I think we both know that something special is going on between the two of us. And I promised I wouldn't be the type of woman that made you choose between your friends and me. And then yesterday, I basically had a hissy fit over you going to Val and Jon's."

"Why?" Jaime asked calmly, cocking his head.

"Why what?"

"Why did you have what you, not me, is calling a hissy fit?"

The snarl that came from her mouth startled even Sansa.

"Because."

Jaime smiled benignly.

"Because, why?"

"Because I wanted you to come to spend time with me and not them. I thought you could come over, and we could spend Sunday together, and we could bake and maybe go for a walk. I don't know. I didn't really have a plan. And I know if it were anyone else, you'd have invited me to come along. But there is this big Val barrier, and that sucked, and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I just wanted you all to myself, or at least to be included, and it wasn't fair to be upset at you for not including me in something I wouldn't have wanted to do in the first place."

Sansa sucked in a breath at the end of her very long run-on sentence and saw that Jaime was smirking, his handsome face almost joyful. He rose then, all leonine grace and handsomeness and Sansa sucked in a breath as he stalked closer to her. There was no denying the power this man had. He made her knees weak.

He stopped when their faces were mere inches apart, and so she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"No woman has ever wanted me for just me."

"Well, I do, Jaime."

"I know. Gods, I know. Do you know what that does to me? How that makes me feel? To know that you wanted to just spend time with me, after seeing me both days this weekend."

"I hope it makes you feel the same way that I do."

"And how do you feel, my Sansa?"

She took a shaky breath and then reached out to grasp his soft t-shirt, pulling him closer still. Their mouths were so close they were almost touching, and she could practically taste him.

"I feel like the universe is finally giving me something good, Jaime. I feel like this was meant to be – like I was meant to come here and find you."

"Sansa," Jaime breathed out, his hand at her back, pulling her even closer to him.

She swore she was about to kiss him when the door to the library opened, and the first of the seniors began to shuffle in.

"To be continued," Jaime whispered in her ear. "Are you free tonight?"

Her brain was a muddle, but she managed to choke out a yes.

"Good. I'll come by your place later when I'm off shift. Do you want me to bring dinner?"

Dinner. Gods, the man was talking about dinner, and she was thinking of making him dinner. Jaime Lannister was a very dangerous man for her self-control.

Shaking her head, Sansa said, "No, I can handle it."

They worked in tandem for the next hour to get the seniors through their tea.

Sansa poured while Jaime ate treats and flirted. It didn't seem to matter that his target audience was eighty with bifocals – the women loved him.

When they were done, the last of them shuffling out the door, Jaime drew her back into the cradle of his arms. Comfortable there, Sansa let herself be held, enjoying the moment.

"So, tonight?"

"Tonight."

With one last squeeze, he let her go, giving her a little wave as he stepped out into the dreary day.

For some odd reason, a knot had formed in Sansa's stomach, and she wasn't exactly sure why. Shrugging, she turned away when he was out of sight, needing to get some work done and excited she'd see Jaime in a few short hours.

* * *

_ Jaime and his observations _

Jaime had thoroughly enjoyed his morning with Sansa. Her delight at his presents and her confession that she had wanted to spend Sunday with him had done wonders for his mood.

Until he'd had to leave and was faced with the very ugly reality that people he considered his friends had very likely conspired behind his back to push him and Sansa together after he'd expressly told them to stay out of their lives.

Worse yet, was that they'd lied to him for the past three weeks.

He might have been more forgiving if they had come clean, as it were, after the storm. But they hadn't.

Jaime had no idea how Sansa might react when he told her what he suspected, but if she were to leave the island due to their interference, then he'd be even angrier. To have someone like her in his life, to start to build an incredible relationship with her that now might be threatened by the interference of people had thought were his friends was brutal.

He sighed, pausing outside the station. He saw Brienne and Pod inside. No way there weren't part of the storm debacle as he was now calling it.

Jaime had never had anyone hero-worship him the way that Pod did, and Brienne respected his role as Chief of Police. Both had been welcoming to the island, and while the work was hardly challenging in the way it had been in the south, he liked his place here on Skene. Now it all felt slightly tainted.

Which was why this hurt so much. Jaime felt like he was the pawn in someone else's game, much like he had been with the whole Robert and Cersei affair. He had vowed never to be used like that again, and yet, here he was. Did he have something that just said, _idiot_ , stamped on his forehead?

Eight people that were his friends, conspiring behind his back? Then lying to him – maybe not overtly but lying by omission. How as he supposed to reconcile that?

And even with what he was feeling, that didn't alleviate the pit in Jaime's stomach when it came to Sansa and the position that they had put her in. And for what? Because they deemed themselves, happy little matchmakers?

Frustration gnawed at him as he pushed inside the little station.

"I want all the reports from the weekend of the storm," he demanded upon entering the station.

They snapped to attention, having rarely heard that note in Jaime's voice as he threw himself into his chair, his desk across from Pod's. His office was gathering a thick layer of dust, as Jaime preferred to work in the tiny bullpen.

Both Pod and Brienne exchanged a knowing, worried glance. That was enough for Jaime to know something was up. When they had the files, Jaime sat down and began.

"So, tell me when you first were alerted to the Storm?"

It was Brienne that answered most of his questions, as he was relentless.

He took copious notes and hummed occasionally, but it was more than apparent by halfway through the debrief, that both Pod and Brienne had made it a point to be as far away from Sansa's side of the island as possible.

"So the two of you decided it was the best idea to help more experienced island residents then check on Sansa? A woman that had been living here for less than three months?" Jaime knew his voice sounded harsh, and he saw Pod and Brienne exchange a look.

"Well, we knew you could help her," Brienne offered.

"Me? You do realize that at that point, Sansa still hated my guts. Was that really the smartest move, Brienne? You are well aware of escalating a situation, especially in an emergency situation. I was probably the last person she wanted to see."

Brienne swallowed hard and met his gaze. In her eyes, Jaime could see that she still felt her actions defendable.

"It all worked out," was all she said.

Disgusted, Jaime shoved back from his desk. He needed to get out of here, get some air, some space.

"I'm out," was all he said as he reached for his jacket and strode to the door.

He heard them calling but didn't stop in his vehicle and drove like a madman to make it to Sandor's. He knew that the moment he questioned him, Jaime would have the truth.

Jaime didn't even look at Sansa's cottage in the far distance, not wanting to think how things might change once the truth came out.

Instead, he found Sandor talking to his chickens, as Buttercup followed him around the yard. Hurt coursed through Jaime and he swore, he almost had tears in his eyes.

Why the fuck did they lie to him? It hurt to think that they had kept this from him, that they had treated him in such a manner. He thought friends didn’t do that.

He was out of the side by stride and stalking across the yard when he saw Sandor notice him,. Then his shoulders slumped. The big man was honest to a fault.

"Tell me what the fuck happened the night of the storm," Jaime demanded, even as Buttercup bumped into him.

Sandor's mouth went into a thin line.

"Don't suppose you're willing to let it go?" he finally asked.

"No."

Sandor sighed and looked off to the distance.

"Wasn't my fucking idea, and I knew it was a bad one the minute they came up with it."

"Sandor, tell me."

He turned back to him, and Jaime saw how wrecked the man was. There was a moment where Jaime wanted to say, _forget it, I don't need to know_. But that wasn't the type of life he wanted. He wanted to trust his friends – to be part of something on Skene. And that didn't happen with secrets.

Slowly, in bits, Sandor told Jaime about the 'plan,' orchestrated by Brienne and championed by Val.

"Snow and I, well, we were against it."

Jaime snorted, rage burning through him.

"Do you have any fucking idea how goddamn dangerous that was?"

Sandor's eyes went wary.

"Knew you'd never hurt her. Fuck, if you did, I'd strangle you with my two hands."

Jaime exploded.

"That doesn't fucking matter! You guys don't know what she is running from. What if it was her worst fucking nightmare to be trapped with a man? To be trapped with anyone? With me?”

Sandor scrubbed a hand down his face, guilt and regret clear. Jaime tried to reign in his temper. He knew Sandor wasn't the only one at fault, as the silence stretched between them.

"Did you sabotaged the bridge?"

Sandor's eyes came back to Jaime's. "No. Nature did that." Jaime saw the truth there.

“Would you have?”

Sandor finally shook his head. “I went out there and was going to assess. But, I’d already decided I couldn’t fucking do it.”

"Christ, what a fucking mess," Jaime said, suddenly sitting down on a stump. He felt years older, weary and fatigued, the anger draining out of him.

Both men looked to Sansa's cottage.

"You know I have to tell her. She might bolt."

Sandor looked worried. "You mean leave Skene?"

Jaime nodded. "Yeah. I mean, people keep messing with her. She’s fighting so hard, to be a better person, to fight her way out of her crippling grief. She’s made such good progress. And now, this."

Sandor shuffled uncomfortably. "Look, Jaime, I get it. We fucked up, big time. But it wasn't done maliciously."

Jaime barked out a harsh laugh, rising. "I know. Fuck, Sandor, I do know that. But Jesus, why the fuck couldn't you all just leave her alone?"

Sandor had no answer. He was a private man, and Jaime knew he had most likely gone along with the others because he liked being part of the group. He'd confessed that Skene was the only place he'd ever felt welcomed. It would be peer pressure plain and simple that had Sandor agreeing to the plan. And even then, Jaime knew the man wouldn’t have damaged the bridge. That counted for something. Not much, but something. 

Jaime trudged over to his vehicle, knowing he had to tell Sansa. He paused before climbing in, then turned back to Sandor.

"I just don't get why you of all people lied to me. I mean, you've said it yourself, that these people are good people. But you lied to me, Sandor. For three weeks."

Sandor’s shoulders slumped even more, and Jaime just felt incredibly sad for all of them. It felt like things were broken now, and he had no idea how to put them back together.

"Tell everyone that was involved in meeting us at the pub at 7 pm. We'll be there."

With that, Jaime climbed inside his vehicle and put it in gear, pointing it towards Sansa's cottage. He had no idea how she might react to this news, but either way, everything on Skene was about to change.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime tells Sansa and then they confront the meddlers.
> 
> And then, I start to see how to fix things. 
> 
> Also, EVERYONE in this story is human which means, they make mistakes. No one is perfect.


	17. I’m a barnacle - a barnacle!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tells Sansa what he has learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I understand alot of the real anger in the last chapter, esp towards the meddlers. I do. I mean, I wrote it and yeah, they messed up.
> 
> But I believe there is a difference between bad people and people that make bad decisions. 
> 
> This story is different in that the trauma is more 'real life.' In real life, we all mess up. I love the idea of forgiveness and atonement and open communication. 
> 
> I hope you'll give me a chance to help all of these people work this stuff out. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter since I thought we really needed to focus on Jaime and Sansa as Sansa learned the truth.

* * *

[Picset by Brewery ](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/624463210199810048/love)

* * *

_ The Secret Revealed – Sansa  _

Sansa had just seasoned some potatoes, tossing them in oil with some fresh rosemary, marinated some chicken breasts, and was all set to make the salad, when the knock came on her door.

"Come in," she called, comfortable having Jaime just walk into her cottage. That made her smile to herself.

It was amazing to her how much her life had changed in the past three weeks. Having Jaime in her living space was something she eagerly looked forward too, and since the dreary day hadn't let up, she was sure that they would have an enjoyable dinner and then maybe cuddle on the couch.

Sansa had a feeling that Jaime was a champion cuddler!

There was that moment at the library, earlier, before they'd been interrupted when she'd almost kissed him. She found herself thinking about that again and again and wanting to recreate that delicious need between them. How long had it been since she'd felt this anticipation about a simple dinner? Years, she mused.

It was ironic that a man she'd been so sure was nothing but a scoundrel had turned out to be one of the most honest and loyal she'd ever met. There was something about Jaime that Sansa inherently trusted. Unlike Harry, Sansa knew instinctively that Jaime would never hurt her intentionally.

She had just opened one of the bottles of white wine that Jaime had bought her, turning to greet him when her smile faltered.

The man standing in her foyer was nothing like the man she'd come to know on the island of Skene. Jaime looked devastated, his face showing every emotion.

Worried, she put down the wine and hurried to his side. She wondered if something had happened to someone, to have him look so distraught.

"Oh, Jaime, what's happened?"

He pulled her into his arms and almost shook.

Truly worried now, Sansa held onto him. Tight.

Jaime had done so much for her, had been so good not only for her self-confidence but in challenging her to fight her way out of her grief. The least she could do was offer him that same comfort when he was clearly going through something.

They stood there, holding each other, for minutes, until finally, he pulled back gently.

"We need to talk," he said, voice as grave as his face.

Sansa's stomach knotted. Were there any worse words in the English language than the dreaded _we have to talk_.

Her mind raced, trying to think if she had done something to offend him. Perhaps she'd been too forward today at the library, or he'd rethought her apology for being upset about him visiting Val and Jon.

Then her stomach really did a loop when Sansa imagined that somehow Cersei had wormed her way back into Jaime's life. Really, what did they have that compared to a love like that? Jaime had given up everything for Cersei – surely if she wanted him again, he'd take her back.

Truly, worried now, and needing to know what the hell was happening, Sansa finally pulled back, she looked in Jaime's eyes.

"What is going on?"

The pain there scared Sansa.

"Please, Jaime. Just tell me."

"They did this to us," he whispered.

Sansa frowned, not understanding. "What?"

"My friends, they .. I … uh …"

Seeing that Jaime was struggling, Sansa guided him to the couch.

"Sit," she said, stroking a hand down his back. He shuddered once, and then reached for her hand, turning so they were facing one another.

"My friends, Sansa. They conspired to trap us together the night of the storm. Here."

Sansa was stunned as she was trying to give meaning Jaime words. She understood them individually, but they just didn't make any sense.

"They … what?"

She shook her head, trying to figure it out. It sounded like something out a bad movie plot. She almost laughed; it sounded so ridiculous, but one look at the hurt on Jaime's face, and she pushed that aside. It was apparently a thing. A very real thing that had consequences. 

"Who?" she said, wrinkling her eyebrows, trying to process everything.

Jaime shook his head, looking incredibly upset. The anger from him palpable. And there was something more there, she decided. She looked at him, hard, trying to figure it out. She understood the anger, for she felt the bite of that as well, but it was the something else that had her a bit baffled at first.

Then she saw it.

He was hurt – so very hurt.

Suddenly, it all made sense why he was so upset. Jaime's friends had lied to him! The storm was over three weeks ago, and he'd just discovered that people he was close to had lied to him.

Sansa still didn't understand why anyone would think shoving two people who were barely talking to each other together in a cottage was a good idea. But that was almost secondary right now. Right now, Sansa's concern was for Jaime.

Empathy for this man that had been so good to her surged through Sansa clasped their hands together, squeezing tightly.

"I can handle it," her voice calm. "I know this must hurt, Jaime. But I'm here for you."

He looked astounded as if he'd expected tears, yelling, and swearing. That might come since Sansa was still trying to understand precisely what had happened, and why these people continued to interfere with her life in the most bizarre ways, but it wasn't the overarching emotion she was feeling. Right now, she was worried about Jaime.

Slowly, he started to speak, and Sansa could feel the anger bubble up as she learned that eight people, some of whom she really had come to think she had a connection with, had concocted some harebrained plan to get her and Jaime together. By trapping them together in her cabin as a winter storm raged.

It was insane.

It was dangerous.

It was so typical of these people.

"But… but…," she sputtered, trying to form words. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream.

"I know. I mean, I didn't know. I just found out, Sansa. You have to believe me; I had no idea. The moment I knew for sure, I came here. To tell you. I would never keep anything like that from you."

He looked so wrecked and worried that she would think he had some part of this that Sansa pushed aside her own fury.

"Gods, Jaime no. Christ, no. I'd never think that. You were nothing but respectful to me, even when I was a bitch to you. I know you had nothing to do with this."

Those expressive eyes that Sansa had seen laugh, and comfort and challenge her, were so fraught right now. Sansa leaned in and cupped his face, stroking him. His forehead rested against hers.

"Sansa, I would never," he whispered raggedly. "I know I slept with a married woman, but I am not a liar. I am not that man. I am more than that. I learned to be good. What Cersei did to me, it devastated me. When I came here, these people, they welcomed me, and they were my friends. They were my friends, and they lied to me," he choked out on a sob, his body shuddering.

"Oh, Jaime," she said, shaking her head, her heartbreaking for him. She wished she could make this better for him.

"I asked them not to interfere after the book club incident. I told them to leave you alone. And they didn't listen."

Sansa was upset, yes. She had no idea why these people couldn't leave her alone. They seemed ridiculously invested in her life, and they barely knew her. And oddly, they had determined that she and Jaime were right for one another.

Just because Jaime and Sansa had worked things out, didn't excuse their actions. She and Jaime could have just as easily remained enemies. They had no idea that Sansa would overcome her anger at Jaime or that Jaime would be so wonderful. It was utterly reckless.

"They didn't know your history, Sansa. What if you had been running from an abusive man? What if you had real trauma to be alone with someone, anyone? This situation that they manipulated could have been your absolute nightmare!”

Sansa hadn't even thought of that, but Jaime was getting more worked up by the minute.

"Ok, you're right. But stop for a minute and breath with me," she said, pleased when he did.

After a few deep breaths, she nodded.

"So, first, we know that wasn't my trauma."

He opened his mouth to protest.

"Shhhh. I'm not making excuses. It was reckless and stupid and quite frankly, bizarre. And yes, potentially very dangerous."

"It was all those things," Jaime blurted out, the resentment building again. "They manipulated both of us, took our choice."

"I know, I know. I do Jaime. I do. And you're not wrong. You aren't. They did. But…" Sansa swallowed hard.

Gods, these people just had no idea where personal boundaries were. And they had hurt Jaime, one of the kindest men she'd ever met.

"I don't think they are bad people, Jaime. Just people that made a bad decision."

He growled and sat back, throwing his head back on the couch. He rubbed at his eyes and pinched his nose and then sat forward.

"They manipulated me, Sansa. After most of them knew at least part of what it was like with Cersei. They used me. They used us. Is this what friends do?"

Sansa felt a bit helpless. She sat back next to him, just as Jaime lifted his arm so she could cuddle into his embrace.

"I don't know. I haven't been a very good friend in years."

He let out a bitter little laugh.

"Fuck, Sansa. It was like I was a joke to them. Three weeks. They all knew this for the past three weeks. And what the hell am I supposed to do with Pod and Brienne? How can I possibly work with them? Trust them after this?"

Sansa had no idea. She wished she could make this right for him with a snap of her fingers but knew from experience that broken trust was so hard to repair. She hugged him tightly.

"I don't know. I have no answers for you."

His chest heaved out a ragged sigh, and they just sat there, arms wrapped around each other. So much emotional turmoil had happened on this couch in such a short time.

Sansa finally understood the depth to which Jaime had been hurt. He might have been further on his healing journey than her, but he still had his triggers.

His pain was still genuine and very raw, given the actions of his friends.

Oddly enough, Sansa had a smidgen of sympathy for the meddlers. It was not because she thought their actions were right or justified, but she'd been a really awful friend for several years. So she kind of got it.

She didn't blame herself. Between Ben's illness, the treatments, and her marriage imploding, she'd had nothing left for anyone else. So she did understand what it was like to not always make the best choices for people that you cared about. It sucked because when the fog cleared, you were left with very few people by your side.

The situation of being a bad friend wasn't quite the same between Jaime's friends and her, but she didn't think they were 'bad' people. Just like she wasn't a 'bad' person when she'd been a crappy friend to Marg and Ros. She’d been self-involved and consumed with her own shit.

The meddlers were misguided. Nosy. Interfering. Unable to respect boundaries.

But not bad. They weren’t bad people.

But they had hurt him with their deception and their lying.

 _The road to hell was paved with the best intentions_ , Sansa thought, sad for everyone.

She could only hope that maybe she could help Jaime with this situation. She had such deep feelings for him, and he'd helped her so much.

And it might keep some of her anger at bay. If she focused on what they had done, she was sure to lose it. Sansa didn't like anyone interfering with her life, and she wasn't as open as these people were. She hadn't grown up here, wasn't woven into the fabric of life on Skene.

On an island like Skene that was so small, it would be misery to be at odds with eight of the most prominent people here.

And she didn't even want to think that Val was part of this. That was sure to get her ire way up. Sansa knew that the day was coming when she and Val would have to sort their issues out and come to some sort of resolution. But that was between her and Val.

That day was not today. Today, she wanted to be there for Jaime.

"So what's next?" she finally asked.

The one saving grace for Sansa in this entire mess was that neither Mayra nor Jeyne had been part of it. That made Sansa feel she still had some friendships that were untainted on the island.

The hardest part? Learning Sandor and Jon had been part of it. Pushing aside her hurt at those two, she turned her head up to Jaime.

His scowl had deepened, and he looked so forlorn. And his jaw was clamped shut, the muscles ticking.

Sansa sat up.

"Here's the thing. I have dinner prepared; all I have to do is start the oven. We can stay here, drink some wine, maybe watch a movie."

He perked up a little.

"Yeah?" He looked so lost, her very soul ached for this man who seemed so alone. But he wasn't alone. He had her. Maybe he didn't realize it, but he did.

"Yeah, Jaime, we can," she said softly. She would never force him to do anything he didn't want too. If he wanted to delay confronting his friends, then she would stay with him tonight, keep him company and distract him.

He scowled her.

Was it wrong that he looked adorable? That’s when Sansa really knew her feelings for Jaime were deep. He was scowling and she wanted to eat him up. Comfort him. Promise to slay dragons with him, by his side.

"Or?" he asked, pouting a bit.

She gave him a look that said he wasn’t fooling anyone – especially her.

"Jaime, I'd be shocked if you hadn't arranged to confront them. Soon. Like, tonight, soon."

He looked a bit sheepish that she'd guess his intentions, and a bit of hope flared back into her heart, seeing something besides hurt on his handsome face.

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I can't," she said softly. She squeezed his hand. "I'm here for you. Whatever you want."

"Why are you not angrier? They did this to you. They violated your privacy and your trust."

She nodded.

"Yeah, they did. But..." she said, pausing for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I wasn't close with most of them, Jaime. Not like you are. These people are your friends. They've been beside you the entire time you've been here. And you are a police officer. Your entire adult life has been dedicated to helping people and keeping them safe. They broke your trust and put you in an untenable position as an officer of the law."

There was a pregnant pause, while Jaime contemplated his options.

Sansa knew his decision before he even said it.

Jaime could not let this go. It wasn't in his nature. And Sansa found she respected him a lot for it. It would be easier to let it go, maybe pretend that things hadn't gotten so out of control. But that would create a rotten foundation, and those friendships would never last.

As hard and as brutal as it might be, they needed to clear the air. All of them.

If Sansa ever wanted a place on Skene, a future on Skene, this had to end now. She didn't need Jaime to fight her battles for her, but they could be there for each other – they could face this together. And they had to make it clear in no uncertain terms for these people to allow their relationship to progress at its normal pace, without overt actions like trapping them together. They would muddle their way through.

"I have to say something. I can't let it go."

He looked almost apologetic. Sansa wondered why. Anyone who knew Jaime knew this would be his answer.

"Of course. But I drive," she said.

His face morphed into one of stunned disbelief.

"You're coming with me?"

For the first time in her life, Sansa actually wanted to hurt someone besides her ex. If Cersei were in this room, Sansa wouldn't be able to hold back. How on earth could Jaime not see that she knew he'd have to do this? And that she'd be by his side? How alone had this man been, to think that she wouldn't stand beside him?

"Yes," she said, the word clipped. She had an image of Cersei’s head snapping back if she slapped it and Sansa was not a violent woman.

She had so many emotions bouncing around inside her, but they were mostly for someone else for the first time. Her pain wasn't the most paramount – Jaime’s was. Talk about growth! Her therapist would be overjoyed when she shared all of this with her.

Sansa felt like going to war for Jaime. Shaking her head at her own thoughts, she tried to understand why people kept treating Jaime so poorly. She knew he didn’t come across as an alpha male, but a person only had to spend a small amount of time with him to know he had a pretty strong moral code. 

Gods, she wanted to ring the necks of the meddlers. They weren't bad – not like Cersei. But Jaime was so honourable and trusting. They knew about his ugly affair, and they had to know that lying to him would hurt him.

Huffing out a breath, trying to reign in her temper, Sansa rose to put the food away. She walked into the kitchen, as Jaime trailed after her, and for the first time since he'd arrived, he looked like he had someone on his mind beyond the devastating news he'd just learned.

Their dinner tonight had been ruined.

Sansa had the table set, Jaime's flowers in the center, along with a bottle of wine he had bought her, chilling. He glanced at the counters and saw all the food ready to cook and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fuck, Sansa, I'm so sorry."

She snorted and shook her head.

"Jaime don't. You did nothing wrong."

He opened his mouth to protest again, and she gave him _the look_. It was a look every mother perfected and he swallowed his words.

"This isn't on you," she said. He nodded, then she held out her hand.

"Ready?"

He looked almost punch drunk as if he didn't quite know which way was up. Sansa didn't even want to imagine what he must have been like when he'd caught Cersei cheating on him. And her heart hurt thinking he might have been alone, going through all of that.

But he was no longer alone. And neither was she.

He had her. And one thing that Jaime hadn't yet learned is that when Sansa chose to let someone in, she let them all the way in. She'd be by Jaime's side, no matter what.

He might not know what that felt like, from a woman that was in a relationship with him, but he was sure as hell going to find out. Sansa stuck like fucking crazy glue.

As for the meddlers? Their friends?

Well, Sansa knew that something had to be said. This had to come out, or else it would fester and rot, destroying the dynamic on Skene.

She'd seen first-hand what it was like when something was off between people. _She'd_ been the something that was off with her friends. Again, she didn't blame herself, but it sucked that she'd damaged those friendships.

She didn't want Jaime to lose these people in his life. He might be hurt and angry at them right now, and that was his right. But Jaime wasn’t a man that held grudges and she knew that if they could get through this, he’d want them in his life.

Just before she reached to open the door, Jaime pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"Your welcome. I'm like a barnacle, Jaime, when I care for someone," she added.

She heard his confused little laugh, and it was a sign of hope. Gods, she missed his laugh, his smile. She wanted that back.

"A barnacle?"

"Yeah. I stick, Jaime."

He cupped her cheeks. "And I'm that someone you care for?"

"So very, very much."

He swallowed hard, too choked up and then nodded.

"I can be a barnacle too," he said, and her heart melted.

"Good, baby. That's good. We'll be each other's barnacles," Sansa said.

It wasn't the most romantic way to declare her feelings for him, but it was real. And it was true. The light in his eyes told Sansa that she'd gotten through. Jaime knew that she'd be there for him.

"Let's go do this," he finally said, after holding her a bit longer.

Sansa followed him outside into the growing darkness, worry eating at her guts, wondering if everything on Skene was about to change.

She had no idea what might happen and knew that Jaime didn't really have to stay on Skene.

The man was loaded. He could go anywhere. And he was a damn good cop, all that nonsense with Cersei notwithstanding.

This place was just starting to feel like home – like a place where she could plant some solid roots. Sansa didn't know what she might do, should Jaime decided that the best thing for him was to tear those roots up and leave Skene.

Regardless, she hadn't been lying when she said that she stuck. That was her – a fundamental part of her personality. When Sansa cared for someone, she was all in. Right now? That was Jaime.

So no matter what happened tonight, they would do this together, and face whatever consequences came out of this meeting. Together.

Jaime and Sansa.

Forging something new out of the ashes of their previous life.

Hand in hand, no matter what life threw at them.

Sansa could only hope that Jaime felt the same way, or else her heart would be shattered if the meddlers and Jaime couldn’t make this right, and he left the island of Skene for good.

Still, Sansa knew this was something Jaime had to do. And so she’d do it by his side, and take whatever consequences came their way. Because that was what you did when you were someone’s barnacle – you stuck by them, through it all, no matter what.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> All ten of them finally clear the air.


	18. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa confront the meddlers and then a big step in their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. 
> 
> Just - keep in mind that these aren't 'bad' people. That is all. We are all human and we all make mistakes.
> 
> Huge thanks to MF for all her help w/ this one.
> 
> And huge thanks to those that have stuck by me through the tremendous emotions of this story

* * *

  
[Picset](https://tmwritesromance.tumblr.com/post/625355443723747328/chapter-18-a-light-by-the-waters-edge-in-which)

* * *

_ The Confrontation – Jaime _

As they drove towards the village, Jaime held onto Sansa's hand as if it were a lifeline, and he was a man drowning. There was a small part of him that understood that he was perhaps overreacting slightly. But he understood enough of himself to get that the way this had all happened was as awful for him as the act itself.

It felt like a dual hit – friends that had lied to him while putting him and Sansa in an untenable position. Friends that had manipulated him, and her. The only saving grace, perhaps, was that Jaime knew they thought they had be doing it for the greater good.

Jaime had been so worried when he told Sansa what happened, what they had done, that she'd immediately start packing and booking the next ferry off Skene that never in his wildest dreams did he think that she might be there for him. It stood in stark contrast to how he'd been treated by Cersei that he'd been almost stunned to realize that she was offering him comfort, support and a shoulder to lean on.

Despite the circumstances in which everything had happened, it felt amazing to have someone who was there for him – that cared about him. Sansa understood him and didn't make him feel less for showing the emotions that he had.

"Where are we meeting?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"The pub. Bronn is going to shut it down. Monday's can be slow. And, well," Jaime shrugged, “It’s the least they can do.”

Jaime didn't much care if Bronn bitched about losing some income tonight. He owed Jaime. They all did.

"All of them will be there?"

"Yeah," Jaime said, feeling suddenly weary.

He really wasn't good at confrontation. He could manage, well enough, but he didn't like it, didn't thrive on it. Not the way some he knew did. There were guys in his precinct who always seemed to be in some battle with their wives or someone at work. For the most part, that level of conflict was something Jaime actively avoided.

It was probably why he lasted with Cersei for so long since he'd just gone along with whatever she wanted once he'd crossed the big, red, cheating line. Cersei thrived on the fight, and half the time they were together, they were arguing about something. That was yet another reason that things were so nice with Sansa. She didn’t create fake issues for them to fight over – they both had enough real ones.

"We don't have to do this. Not tonight," Sansa offered, barely finishing her sentence, just as he shook his head.

"Nah. It needs to be done. It'll be better to get it all out in the open. Rumours have a way of quickly spreading around Skene, and the last thing I want is people taking sides or discussing it behind all our backs. That would be worse."

Sansa frowned.

"You are allowed to do what is best for Jaime, you know. That's not selfish. I'm not saying this doesn't have to be dealt with, because it does, but if you need another day, take it."

Jaime felt a grin crack his face at how fierce and loyal she was. His father would swear that she was like a lioness, so protective, and amazing. But Jaime knew she was a wolf. He'd seen it in her when she spoke of Ben, how she'd gone to the mat for her kid. Sansa was someone who fought for those she loved.

"So, a barnacle, huh?" he said, changing the subject. They were going to deal with this matter with the meddlers tonight. It would most likely be extremely unpleasant and make his stomach hurt. The next ten minutes didn't have too.

Jaime would never have thought that a woman declaring herself to be a barnacle, _his_ barnacle, would be so alluring, so sexy, so goddamn wonderful, but it was. Trust Sansa not to do anything the traditional way.

Jaime was already in so fucking deep with her, his feelings growing by the day, that to hear her declare herself for him like that felt amazing.

"Yeah," she said. It was dark in the vehicle, but Jaime would bet money that she was blushing. "It's been a long time since I've tried to be romantic with someone. So sorry. I probably didn't do that as well as I could of."

"Sansa, I love it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he told her, meaning it. He liked that she was someone that stuck and that she'd chosen to stick by him. It was who Jaime was as well. He didn’t really do casual relationships, and neither did the woman he was falling for. Which suited him just fine.

They arrived in the village, and even though it was late March, people here were mostly indoors already. The weather was crap, and the night had already fallen. The pub was lit, yet instead of being warm and welcoming, the way it always had been in the past, it felt loud and harsh today. Jaime parked and turned off the ignition, sitting there in the silence for an extra moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

Eventually, he turned to give Sansa a small smile. He would have done anything to avoid having such a situation take place. It didn't feel fair that the hard work they'd done to get to this place was now somehow threatened by others. It was almost like they could never catch a break, the two of them. In trying to help, the meddlers could have just as easily torn them apart.

Briefly, Jaime wondered if he was any good for Sansa. As much as he was falling for her, and make no mistake, Jaime was all in when it came to Sansa, maybe he attracted too much attention, too much angst. Maybe he should step back and let her go, to be free of him and his baggage. After all, if the meddlers, _his friends_ , hadn't thought they'd be so great together, Sansa wouldn't have been in the middle of their latest hairbrained scheme.

Jaime felt Sansa's hand on his arm and turned his head to gaze at her.

"Jaime, I don't know what you are thinking about. But these past few weeks, I feel like me again. I mean, I know I'm something new, something different. There really is no going back after what I’ve been through. But you've done so much for me. Helped me in ways I didn't even know were possible. So for what it's worth, and I'm not excusing their behaviour, but I’m sort of glad that all of your friends cared about you enough to think I was good enough for you."

Jaime was speechless. Sansa was such an incredible human, had been through so much, had just started to find herself again, and yet for the past few hours, she'd been a rock for him.

"Sansa, I promise I'll be worthy of your feelings, your conviction in me."

"I know," she said, simply, as if it were assumed. As if she knew that he was a man worthy of her. Gods, those words sounded so sweet and incredible.

"Come on, let's get this done," he said, voice thick with the emotion the night had created.

"Lets."

They entered Bronn's pub together, hand in hand, united and strong. What could have been disastrous for them, hadn't been. But that didn't mean Jaime's hurt and anger weren't real.

The eight were there, looking distressed and upset, nursing food and drinks.

Val and Jon were tucked in a back booth, and Jon had the decency to raise his eyes and meet Jaime's. It wasn't much, but it was something. Val opened her mouth, but Jon whispered something to her, and she closed it and looked upset. Jaime's empathy wasn't high for Jon and his pretty wife.

Brienne looked flat out belligerent, glaring at Jaime with her arms crossed. Of everyone, Jaime was sure that she would argue that the ends had justified the means. Brienne had a way of seeing things through her point of view, and if she thought she was correct, almost nothing could dissuade her.

Tormund wore a scowl and saluted Jaime with his beer.

Pod was almost shaking, and Wyn was pressed close to him. Jaime swore he was ready to cry and felt an odd mixture of pity, resignation and hurt. He and Pod had been close – were close. Jaime counted Pod as one of his very best friends. The lying – that was what really got to Jaime.

Bronn had his arms crossed at his bar, glaring, while Sandor was sitting a little apart from the rest of the group, looking fucking miserable.

The worst thing was, Jaime liked these people. A lot. And this just hurt. A lot. All of it hurt.

"Jaime," Tormund said, using his name for perhaps the first time since Jaime had stepped on the island. Before he’d always been LION to the redheaded Wildling.

"Hey," Jaime said, tugging Sansa forward. There was a little table for them, with two chairs, and they sat.

Silence reigned.

Val once again went to speak, and Jon shook his head.

"No," was all he said.

Jaime reached for his water, taking a sip and gathering his thoughts.

"Why?" Jaime finally asked. "I guess that's what I need to know. Just … why?"

"Because we saw how you two looked at each other," Val blurted out, which had Jon scowling.

"Val," he said, a warning in his voice. She turned to Jon, frowning.

"What? It's true. They've looked at each other since the moment she stepped on the island. And they just couldn’t seem to work it out. So we stepped in to help."

Sandor let out a bitter snort. He knew exactly how Jaime felt about such ‘help.’

"Fuck," Sandor snarled. "Enough. We fucked up. We're sorry. We mixed in, and we fucking shouldn't have."

Jaime appreciated the honesty of Sandor. He knew that he and the big man would come out of this fine. Sandor was honest to a fault, and it must have been hell on him, keeping this secret.

"I disagree. Val's right. The two of you had been moving towards this, but without our help, it might never have happened," Brienne interjected, looking a bit miffed that this was such a big deal. “And it did work out.”

"But that wasn't your place," Sansa said, speaking for the first time, her voice quiet, but commanding.

All eyes swung to her and Jaime worried for a moment, that she was putting herself too out there. These were his friends, mostly, that had done this. He should take the lead, bear the brunt of the confusion and anger that was sure to follow. 

Instead, he saw the spine of steel this woman possessed. She gave a slight shake of her head towards Jaime as if to say, this was her battle as well. Some unnamed emotions swelled inside Jaime. He’d never had a partnership like that before.

"From the moment I came here, you've been pushing us together. It’s as if because I’m single, that you all through that gave you carte blanche to mess around in my life. But none of you really know me," Sansa continued.

"Whose fault is that?" Val mumbled.

Jaime sucked in a breath, knowing it was the wrong tactic. Sansa being single and alone did not give these people free rein to mess with her, or her life. Like they had.

He could see the defensive body language in both Brienne and Val and knew that this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as a heartfelt apology from them.

Sansa stiffened. Before Jaime could intervene, to try to mitigate some of the hurt, Sansa spoke again.

"Mine. It's my fault, and I accept that. I have kept people at arm’s length. I have my reasons – good reasons that I don’t have to share with you. I know I overreacted, to Jaime and to the first set up, that night at Book Club. But what I don't understand why you all tried again, especially when Jaime asked you not to?"

Val's shoulders slumped, and Brienne looked confused, while Wyn shook her head.

"We're sorry, Sansa. We shouldn't have. We didn't think it through. We just … well, we're happy. Jaime helped Pod and me, and we wanted the same thing for him. And you."

"But to trap us together?" Jaime said voice horrified. "None of you knew Sansa's story. None of you had a clue what her reaction might be.”

"But we trust you, Jaime," Brienne countered and shrugged. "We knew you wouldn't harm her. You’re one of the good guys."

His fist came down before he could help it, green eyes flashing.

"It’s not about me, Brienne. What if she was running from an abusive husband? A crazy ex? What if it was her nightmare to be trapped with a man – any man? Did you ever stop to consider that it wasn't about me, but Sansa? You're an officer of the law, for fuck sakes."

Brienne stood, and Jaime saw the hurt and offence she’d taken at his words. He’d hit her where she felt the most amount of pride – in her judgement and her career.

"But it didn't happen like that. Sandor had a back way out, and if it was bad, we could have rescued you. It all turned out fine, so it’s a bit much for you to be making us feel so bad, that clearly had a positive effect on both of you."

"It was reckless and idiotic. And incredibly stupid and ill-thought-out!" Jaime stood as well, so he and Brienne were nose to nose. Her eyes were angry as if she thought he was out of line.

Sansa rose and placed a hand on his shoulders, and Jaime took three deep breaths, as Tormund tugged Brienne back down to her seat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. To both of you. It was stupid, and we should never have done it!" Pod cried, and Jaime's heart ached for his deputy. It was evident that Pod and Wyn were truly upset about their role in this whole affair.

"I don't understand," Brienne muttered. She waved a hand at them. "Look at them. They're happy and closer than ever. What's the big deal? If Jaime had called, we could have gotten him out of there. They weren’t truly trapped.”

Jaime was speechless as he looked at Brienne. How could she not see that what she did was a violation of her profession and friendship? And the lying? Did that mean nothing to her?

"You hurt him," Sansa said, voice getting stronger. “You lied to him. You lied to your friend. You deceived him. Maybe you didn't know my story, my history. But you knew his. You knew what Cersei did to him, down in King's Landing. You knew that he'd been lied to and used. And you all did that to him. That's not what friends do."

Her voice never raised, but that didn't lessen the impact of her words.

Jon, Tormund, Pod and Sandor all looked like they were going to be sick. Even Val had a stricken look on her face as Sansa’s word penetrated into their thick skulls.

"Jaime, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that," Val said. He could only nod at her. He knew she wasn’t a bad person.

"But it was for his own good! Look at them," Brienne said.

"Love, stop," Tormund commanded. She shot him a murderous look, but he shook his head. "We fucked up. We should never have done what we did."

"But we're not bad people. It wasn't done with malicious intent!" she argued back. “We did it FOR them!”

"Brienne, stop," Jon said, his voice holding a note of command that they all rarely heard, but when they did, they paid attention to.

"We shouldn't have done it. We don't know what Sansa's story is. Some of us, we think we know, but we don't. And we didn't think about the lying. We're not bad people, but we made a bad choice. Our intentions were good. We wanted you both to be happy," Jon explained.

"But how can you know what is going to make me happy?" Sansa finally cried. She had tears in her eyes, and Jaime's heart ached. "None of you really know me. You don't know what I've been through."

She ended on a sob, and Jaime pulled her to him.

"But we've tried, and you've made it so hard," Val countered, showing a bit of heat in her words. "We don't have secrets on Skene, and yet, we all know something bad happened to you, but you say nothing. You make it impossible to get to know you, and even though I apologized to you, you still hardly speak to me.”

"So, your solution was to trap me with a man I swore to hate?" Sansa said, head whipping up from where Jaime held her. 

Val shrugged.

"Jaime is a good guy. He can make you happy. We want him to be happy. Personally, I’m not sure how you can do that, but I’ve seen how he looks at you."

Sansa just looked stunned.

"By manipulating us?" Her voice was ice, her tone frosty.

"Sansa," Jon tried to intervene, but Jaime saw that something had crossed a line for her. She rose now, body tight, eyes flashing.

Val shrugged again and looked to Jon. “I mean, it wasn’t that much of a stretch. You two were all heat and anger. You just needed a nudge, so you could get close to Jaime. And once you two were close, well, then we knew you’d come around to us.”

Sansa’s eyes flashed.

"Well, since you are all so involved in my life, perhaps it's time you know my story."

Jaime's heart sunk. He didn't want her to do this, to tell them like this. He reached for her hand, but she batted it away. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Sansa, stop," he pleaded softly.

She whipped her head around to him, and he could tell she was too far gone. The anger was there, roused by these people and their good intentions. Secrets would be shared tonight, whether anyone wanted to know them or not.

"No, Jaime. Apparently, there are no secrets on Skene." She all but sneered the words. “Apparently, I can’t be a private person. Not according to her,” Sansa said, pointing a finger at Val, who shrunk back into Jon.

Jon, Sandor and Pod looked like they were going to be sick, while Val and Wyn paled.

"Sansa, that wasn't…" Val tried to say, but Sansa just rolled right over her.

"Nope. You’ve had your say, now I’ll have mine, Val. Clearly, I'm the fucking problem. So here's my sad little story. My son was diagnosed with cancer when he was just over a year old. Forgive me if I don't share the gory details with you people. But it was a hellish two years. Long story short? He died, and in the meantime, my marriage imploded. Six months after I buried my son, I found my husband cheating on me. So now you all know, and you can go back to your perfect little lives. Just leave me alone."

She pushed back her chair and stalked towards the exit, just as Jaime rose to follow her. No words had been spoken by the others. Jaime knew they had suspected, but hearing it so bluntly stated had robbed them of their words. Sansa was the living embodiment of every parent’s worst nightmare.

Just as Sansa reached the door, she spun back and came to the table with the others were.

"And just for the record. What you did to Jaime fucking sucks. You are supposed to be his friends. His friends! Friends don't fucking lie to each other. So fine, do whatever you want to me since I never fit into your perfect little world here. But he did. So don't fucking blame him for me being a loose cannon, and that things are so bad now, between everyone. This isn’t my fault! It’s yours. If you care about him at all, you will make this up. To him."

With that, she flipped her hair and stalked out of the bar.

Jaime saw the stunned looks of pain on the faces of his friends. He knew these people were good, and with the bomb that Sansa had dropped, they'd feel for her.

But he was also angry.

Angry that they'd all been pushed to this point.

Angry they’d been manipulated.

And angry that they’d lied to him afterwards, for weeks.

"Jaime…" Tormund started to say.

Jaime shook his head. "Just … give her time. Give us time."

With that, he turned his back and hurried after Sansa. Jaime found her leaning against the pub's stone wall, eyes squeezed closed, the tears coursing down her face.

He walked up to her, wishing they were further along in their relationship to pull her into his arms. But they weren't. He’d promised anything physical had to be initiated by her, so he could only ball his hands into fists, and try to keep from smashing them against the stone.

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," she said, without even opening her eyes. "This is on them."

Jaime blew out a breath. It was. He wasn't sure what might be salvageable out of those friendships.

Some, he hoped could be worked on. Pod. Sandor. Maybe Jon.

Others he had less hope for. Brienne. Bronn. Val.

"Take me home," she said, suddenly sounding weary and beaten down as she had weeks ago. Anger surged through Jaime again, thinking of how far she'd come, only to have this happen. They’d done this to her. Had they left her alone, she’d be thriving.

Just as they made it to their vehicle, he heard a voice calling to them. They stopped to see Jon and Sandor hurrying after them.

"What do you want me to do?" Jaime asked Sansa.

Sandor was her neighbour, and it was hard to live on Skene without relying on those that lived next to you. It wasn't like a suburban house, where you could just avoid people. If she got into trouble, Sandor was invaluable. Being at odds with him wasn’t just bad emotionally, but could also be dangerous. Still, if she wanted, Jaime would get rid of them.

Sansa's shoulders slumped, and she said, "I'll talk to Sandor. But if I speak to Jon, I might smack him."

“Sansa?”

She gave a weary sigh, and then brushed away the tears. “I thought Jon was my friend Jaime. But it was his wife that initiated all of this. I just can’t with him right now.”

“Alright. And Sandor?”

Sansa gave a nod.

Jaime gave a brittle little laugh and then went to meet them.

"She'll talk to Sandor," was all he said, and the big man looked almost relieved.

Jaime just looked at Jon. "Look, we need some space. Right now, Val and Sansa are oil and water."

Jon swallowed hard and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah. I know. She's not a bad person. You know that, Jaime."

Jaime nodded. "I know. But you guys hurt us. You guys hurt me."

"Fuck, I know. I'm sorry. Honestly, I am. I never meant for it all to go so far. And we should have said something when the storm was over."

"You should have," Jaime said and then turned from Jon, dismissing him for now. It was all too fresh and too raw for Jaime to work on forgiveness tonight.

Jaime reached Sandor and Sansa just in time for him to hear Sandor tell Sansa he was never going to destroy the bridge and that he should never have gone along with it.

"Why did you?"

Sandor looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet. For a moment, Jaime thought he might not answer. Then the big man mumbled something.

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, I don't have my hearing aid in, Sandor."

He rolled his eyes at her, which had Jaime biting back a grin. She was rallying. That was good. She was snippy at Sandor, but not yelling.

"I _said_ ," Sandor sneered, "That these people are the first ones ever to accept me. For who I was. A grumpy bastard that likes his chickens and his sheep more than nosy fucking people. But somehow, they wormed their way past my defences. And now we're friends."

He almost spat that word, and Jaime saw when Sansa got it. Sandor had been worried about not going along with the group and what that might mean for his friendships on Skene. Like him and Sansa, Sandor had his own ‘quirks.’

And Jaime could hardly blame him. Sansa and Jaime were the transplants – the others were the long-time residents. It made sense that Sandor went along with them, especially if he’d never had close friendships before.

She sighed. Jaime could already see her compassionate heart at work. Sansa got angry fast, and then it fizzled. She might actually be the first to forgive, for she didn’t seem like much of a grudge holder.

"Look, I get it. I do. I can see how tight everyone is. It just hurts to be used like that."

Sandor nodded and looked resigned, "I know. I'm fucking sorry. It was wrong."

"I mean, what if we all did that to you and Jeyne?" she continued.

Sandor actually paled and looked worried. "What the fuck do you mean? What about me and Jeyne?"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "I mean, you clearly like her. She likes you. So what would you do if we all conspired to trap the two of you together?"

Sandor looked like he might be sick, and for the first time, Jaime felt for someone else besides him and Sansa. She was on a roll, giving it right back to Sandor.

When the big man said nothing, Sansa rolled her eyes again.

"At least ask her out for coffee. You owe me."

Sandor growled, and Jaime had to hold back the grin.

"That's fucking meddling, little bird."

Sansa snorted. "As if you don't deserve it."

The big man gave her a look, and Sansa sighed.

"Sandor, we'll be fine. It was clear that this whole thing wasn't your idea. It sucks that you lied to Jaime and I, but …" she paused. "I like Skene. And I like you. Maybe all you see is this person that's too broken to fit in anywhere…"

"Stop," Sandor said. "I don't. Fuck, of course not. Look at me. I was a fucking mess when I got here. It’s ok to be a mess, Sansa.”

She gave a watery little laugh. "Well, I'm a mess as well."

There was no anger left in her, Jaime noted. It had drained out of her as quickly as it had come. She wasn't really a person that did well with conflict either.

"I'm sorry. About your son," Sandor offered, and she wiped away a tear.

"Yeah, me too."

They were quiet for a few minutes.

"Your ex sounds like an asshole."

She laughed. "He is."

All three of them were silent for a time.

"They aren't bad," Sandor finally said, quietly. He scowled back at the pub. "Nosy as fuck. Still don't get why Tormund likes the big one. And Val is used to being Queen Bee. But they aren't bad people, Sansa. I've known bad people."

Jaime often wondered what Sandor's story was, as his scar was impossible to miss, but tonight was not that night.

"Yeah. I know. I need some space, Sandor. From them. You're allowed to visit."

He rolled his eyes at her but promised he'd pass along the message. And that he was there for her if she needed anything at all.

Then Jaime escorted her inside the vehicle, wondering what was going on in her brain. And if she'd suddenly changed her mind about staying on Skene. The drive home was going to be one of the longest of his life, and he could only hope that Sansa was willing to stay, and try to work things out with those that lived on the island of Skene.

* * *

_ The Pub – Jon _

Back inside the pub, Jon was accosted by those that remained. Bronn had said the whole thing wasn't worth his fucking time and had disappeared into his kitchen, but his wife, Pod and Wyn and Tormund and Brienne all looked upset for various reasons.

Wyn, Pod, Tormund and Val were focused on what Sansa had revealed. Jon knew that they'd guessed something along those lines since Sansa had been so good with the kids at the library but had none of her own. But to hear it all so blatantly laid out was gut-wrenching.

Jon knew his wife was not a bad person. She was nosy and involved and liked to be the center of attention. But she also had a heart of gold and would literally do anything to help someone out.

And she loved children – all children.

This would hurt her. Val would hurt for Sansa. It was something not everyone saw about her, and a part of Val that Jon loved. She would cry and be upset for days and wish she could take some of that hurt from Sansa. Val was almost empathetic to a fault, which so many people missed since she projected a bubbly, cheerful, perfect persona.

Jon himself wanted to be sick when he thought of what Sansa had gone through. Losing a child was every parent's worst nightmare. He and Val had a brief taste of that when Lyanna had gone missing. The thought of having that feeling, that fear, that terror, that heartbreak for the rest of your life?

It almost brought Jon to his knees.

He stopped in front of the group.

"We were wrong. On so many levels," was all he said and got nods all around.

"What can we do?" Val asked.

Jon shrugged, but before he could speak, Sandor was beside him.

"We give her the fucking space she wants as she asked for it. We don't look at her with pity. And we leave the two of them to sort out their love life – without our interference."

Brienne opened her mouth to protest when Tormund cut her off.

"Brienne, listen to me. We fucked up. We know that. Now we have to back off and do what they ask."

"But it all worked out."

"We lied to them," Jon said, a bit of anger in his voice concerning Brienne. She just didn't seem to get it. They’d lied. Yeah, things worked out, but at what cost?

He sighed and shook his head, pinching his nose. He liked Sansa and had been building a bond with her. He'd guess part of her story, but its entirety struck him as worse than what he'd imagined. It hurt that she and Val were so at odds, and how she didn't even look at him when he'd went to apologize. He hadn't had the easiest life, and he knew some of what it was like to think that you'd never have what you wanted.

But to have a family? To have a child and then have that child snatched back from you? It made him want to be sick.

And what the fuck was up with her dickhead ex cheating on her? Jon hated that.

He could see Val was shaking and pale, so he held out his hand for her to take her home. “Come on,” he said softly.

"I'm so awful," she said when they were alone in their little farm truck. Jon held her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"You're not. Your heart was in the right place," he said, believing it. Val might be seen as nosy and maybe even meddling, but she did it from a place of caring. She had a huge heart.

"I just wanted them to be happy! They both seemed perfect for each other."

Jon knew that Val's interference came from a good place – from a good heart that wanted others to have the life she did. She wasn't equipped to handle a trauma like Sansa's, or even Jaime's.

And he knew that sometimes, her 'plans' backfired. None had ever backfired so spectacularly as this one did, but her heart was always in the right place. To Jon, that counted for something.

This time, they'd all just gotten carried away, and they had to own their role in the hurt they'd caused Jaime and Sansa.

"I know, baby."

"Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" Val whispered, truly upset that she might have ruined things with Sansa.

Jon nodded. "I do."

"You do? Why?"

He gave her a soft smile. "Because we aren't bad people, Val. You're one of the most loyal friends I know. And you love, deeply. You care about people."

"How did I get off on such a wrong foot with her?" Val asked, bewildered. She prided herself on 'getting' people. After all, somehow, Val had even brought Brienne around to be their friend.

Jon chuckled. His wife was many things, but able to let things go was not one of them. She also tried a bit too hard to be perfect. He didn't care in the least, but a lot of her identity was wrapped up in being that 'perfect' person – whether it was a mom, wife, friend, or part of the town.

Part of Jon hoped that this entire debacle with Sansa would help Val see that people were just people – on good days and bad and that she didn't have to be quite so 'on' all the time.

Sansa was a breath of fresh air; in that, she wore her emotions on her sleeve and didn't hold anything back. Val could take a lesson or two from Sansa in that regard.

"Let's give it some time."

"And Jaime?"

Jon gave a weary sigh. Things had always been slightly awkward with Jaime, given Jon's own history of infidelity. But they had forged a friendship, even though it wasn't an easy one. Jon was ashamed to admit that they'd treated their friend poorly. Really poorly.

"We messed up, Val. That's just all there is to it. We messed up."

She opened her mouth to protest, and he closed it with a kiss.

"Baby, you know what they say about good intentions."

She closed it and nodded. "Yeah. Fuck yeah, we messed up. Big time."

They were quiet as they drove.

"So, what now?" Val asked just as Jon pulled into their driveway.

"Now we give them a bit of space, and we stay out of their relationship, and we show them that things on Skene are good."

"How?" Val asked, intrigued with her husband's idea, despite how awful the night had been.

Jon shrugged. "Well, this is rock bottom, so I figure, the only place we can go from here is up. And besides, we have some secret weapons."

He winked at her, and Val smiled, shaking her head at him. "Secret weapons? What the hell are you talking about, Jon Snow?"

"Baby goats!" he said, grinning. "No one can resist baby goats."

Val shook her head at Jon, and he saw the hope come back.

"I just want her and me to get along. I know how small Skene is. And I've messed up with her since the start."

Jon drew her close for a hug. He knew it might not be possible for Val and Sansa ever to be the type of friends that Val was hoping for, but he did think it was possible that they could peacefully co-exist on Skene.

"I know, my love. I know."

"She lost her son, Jon," Val sobbed, and he held her as she cried.

This was the Val that Sansa didn't know – the one that would bleed for her friends and stand by them no matter what. Val would go to the wall for someone she cared about, and had she and Sansa been friends when her son died, Val would have stuck to Sansa like glue – even if Sansa tried to push her away.

"How does a mother recover from that?" she asked, voice small.

"I don't know, Val. I don't. She came here, all alone. That takes guts. And she's living, you know. That's brave. So she's a fighter."

"She is," Val agreed.

"Give her time. I think she'll come around," Jon said, his voice confident.

There was just a feeling that he had, that Skene was where Sansa was meant to be. He loved this island and knew that in time, Sansa might as well. There was something magical about Skene.

"And think of what a great story it will be when the two of you do finally sort things out."

Val gave him a soft smile. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Jon shook his head in wonder. He was the lucky one. Val had saved him, and in turn, given him everything. This whole life that Jon had never thought possible. It was all because of Val.

"Come on, let's go see our girls and send your Dad home. Time enough to borrow worries tomorrow."

Agreeing, they walked into their house, hand in hand, grateful for everything they had; their family, and each other, both vowing to make this right with Jaime and Sansa, so that they too, could find happiness here on Skene.

* * *

_ Aftermath – Jaime _

Even though things had sort of seemed better after the Sandor talk, Jaime was still a ball of nerves as he drove Sansa home. She'd seemed so calm when they'd been at her cottage, earlier, and then Val and Brienne had just set things off. He didn't blame her at all, but it was a small island, and they were two of its most prominent citizens.

It was amazing how his focus had changed from his hurt to what Sansa was going through. Knowing that she'd been there for him, Jaime wanted to do the same for her.

But as she remained silent, worry began to gnaw at him, so by the time he pulled into her cottage, Jaime was a ball of nerves. He killed the engine.

"Do you want to come in? I can make supper," she said quietly, almost immediately.

Hope flared inside him, and Jaime coughed and agreed. Now that the worst of the confrontation was over, he found he was hungry. And he wasn't ready to leave Sansa quite yet. He was worried about her and how she was handling everything that had happened today.

They were quiet as they made their way inside.

"I'll see to the fire," Jaime said, and Sansa nodded.

A few minutes later, with the peat going, he turned to find her leaning against the doorframe watching him. Her face was unreadable, her arms crossed, so he wiped his now damp palms on his pants and rose.

And spoke from the heart. This was Jaime, putting himself out there, to another woman that had the power to crush him. Gods, he was such a fucking sucker. When he fell, he fell hard.

"Sansa, I know tonight was awful. And I know that things right now might seem really grim. But, please don't leave Skene without at least telling me first."

He wanted to tell her he'd follow her wherever she went, that they didn't have to stay here if things had been ruined. But he worried he’d scare her away with the depth of his feelings. They hadn’t even kissed and Jaime knew he was all in.

"Leave Skene?" she said, looking confused. "Jaime, why am I leaving Skene?"

As her words penetrated, hope flared, and he walked closer to her. She wasn’t leaving Skene. Or hadn’t been planning on it until he put the idea in her head.

"You're not?"

Her face softened, and her eyes went warm. "Oh, you silly man. No. I'm not."

Jaime sucked in a deep breath. "Thank gods."

Sansa gave him an enigmatic smile then crooked her finger. "Come here, Jaime."

There was a tone to her voice he'd never heard before. She was like a siren that lured men to their prey, and he was helpless to disobey. He took three steps until he was so close to her, he could see the smattering of freckles on her face. She was so beautiful she took his breath away, but even more, she was so strong, such a survivor.

When he was right in front of her, she laid her hands on his chest. He loved what they looked like there, and the air fairly crackled between them, desire and need and something more, just there. It was electric and had every nerve ending in his body humming.

"I'm not leaving, Jaime. I love Skene, even with everything that's happened. Do you love it here?"

Unable to help himself, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, Sansa. I do."

"I feel like I can find myself again here. I'm still a work in progress, Jaime. I am a lot of work. I'm going to have bad days – sometimes more bad days than good."

"I can handle it."

She gave him a soft smile, and his heart tripped and fell. Right there, in her cottage. Jaime fell fully in love with Sansa.

"I know."

Jaime grinned, the last of the awful evening pushed from his mind.

"So, together. Through the good stuff and the bad?" Sansa asked.

"Oh, my darling, I'll be by your side through it all." Jaime meant every word. Through it all, he’d be with her, watching her find her way forward, to become something new, forged out of the hell of her past.

"Good."

She licked her lips, and Jaime had to hold back the moan. He still wasn't touching her, promising her this had to be her move. He wanted her in his arms, his lips on her, to run his hands through that glorious mane of hair.

And still, he didn’t touch her. It was her move.

Then she went up on her tiptoes, put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

For two seconds, Jaime didn't react. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer, so her entire body was pressed up against his. He cautioned himself to gentle the kiss, to allow her to set the pace, as his hands came up to cup her face, to frame it in his hands.

Her lips were soft, and her mouth tasted faintly of lemon drops. She was sweet with a slight bite, and Jaime couldn't help the moan that burst forth. He had ached for this, to have Sansa in his arms, with no lies, no secrets and no animosity between them. He'd wanted her since the moment he'd spotted her on the ferry, and now, she was here! With him!

The kiss started tentatively, as if both of them were slightly unsure, before Jaime slanted his head, and drew her deeper into the kiss. She responded immediately, devouring him as if she were a woman starved, and he responded in kind, the need so acute Jaime ached with it.

When he withdrew his lips from her mouth, so she could catch her breath, he pressed soft kisses along her jawline, until he found her neck. There he saw the flutter of her heartbeat in her neck, inhaling the lavender she always seemed to wear.

“Sansa,” he moaned her name, tugging at the lobe. She arched into him, and he held her close. “My Sansa,” he crooned into her ear.

She invaded his sense, overwhelming him in the best possible way, as he kept laving and kissing her, all over her neck, her face, her cheeks, until he took her lips against, in an achingly soft kiss.

When they finally drew apart, only millimetres, her eyes were almost glassy, and she looked dazed. Jaime felt the same damn way.

"Sansa," Jaime breathed, captivated by her. He hadn't kissed a woman romantically in years and never had it felt like that. Ever.

She gave a shy little smile.

"It's been a long time since I've kissed a man," she told him.

Humbled by her trust in him, Jaime had to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"I've never been kissed like that," he told her honestly. It felt like his entire future was in that kiss.

"So you're my barnacle?" she asked, growing slightly bolder.

Jaime grinned. Gods, she was incredible.

"Yeah, I'm your barnacle. As long as you're mine."

Her smile was answer enough.

"Bet your great ass, I am."

Delighted by her, by them, by everything that had happened, he cupped her cheeks in his hand and nuzzled their noses together. She giggled, and Jaime's heart filled.

"Good." It was better than good. It was a miracle! Somehow, Jaime had found the woman he was meant to be with.

They just stood there, like the two fools they were, dopey grins on their faces. Then Sansa gave a soft chuckle.

"You have full permission to kiss me whenever you'd like now, Jaime."

He threw his head back and laughed, and then his lips smashed into hers. When he finally let her breath again, he gave her that eyebrow wiggle.

"Oh my Sansa, prepare for the next level of wooing."

She rested her head against his chest, and Jaime knew he'd found his forever. He was totally and irrevocably in love with Sansa Stark.

"I'm prepared, Jaime. Fully prepared for next level wooing, and I can't wait."

The best part was, neither could Jaime. They'd find their way through this latest obstacle, and they'd do so together. Jaime knew that his days of being alone were over, as long as he had Sansa by his side.

Watching her tonight had been eye-opening. She'd fought for him, for herself, for them. And he knew that whatever happened next, they'd face it together.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. That was a tough one for me to write. So, I'm really excited to now let the healing begin. Some will be easier than others.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the look into Val's mindset. She really isn't a villain. 
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> Sansa talks to Arya about what happened, Jaime confronts Pod and Brienne at work, and yes, the residents try to make amends.


	19. “You’re on an island - you’re the entertainment!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's POV after the confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I'm ok if people haven't completely forgiven some of the meddlers. My goal with this story is to write real people, who make mistakes. 
> 
> I do believe in forgiveness, and my ultimate goal is to have Jaime and Sansa be happy - however we get there!

* * *

_  
The Next Morning – Sansa _

The light that streamed into her room the next morning matched her mood. The first thing Sansa had remembered when she'd woken up, had been that she had finally kissed Jaime.

She had KISSED Jaime!

She brought her fingers to her lips, thinking they felt slightly swollen due to a few of their intense make-out sessions yesterday.

After she had made the first move, boldly kissing Jaime in her family room, and thus giving him permission to initiate more kisses whenever he wanted, Jaime hadn't hesitated in the least to make good on that statement.

By some unspoken mutual agreement, they didn't discuss what had taken place at the pub for the rest of the night, instead of sharing stories about their respective families, and things they liked. They'd had an intense discussion about their favourite movies, discovering they were both team Marvel over team DC, although Sansa admitted one of her favourite films was Wonder Woman. They had deliberately kept it light and fun, liking how they were both a bit nerdy.

They'd drank a bottle of wine, and eaten dinner, Jaime stealing little kisses here and there. It was so lovely, and Sansa was still glowing this morning. It had been years since she'd felt so sure about a man and a new relationship. Even with Harry, it hadn't been this exciting. Things just clicked with her and Jaime.

They had taken things slowly and built a friendship first. Because of that, Sansa felt so comfortable with Jaime that she allowed herself to sink into all these feelings that she had. She wasn't worried that this was a fling; that Jaime wasn't committed to her. She knew he was as invested in this as she was.

As crazy as it sounded, her and Jaime were very similar in many ways. Neither one of them were 'casual' people. They fell hard and deep when they allowed themselves to care for someone. And both of them had been burned in love, so the fact that they were taking a chance again, with each other, meant something.

A month ago, Sansa would have never imagined she could have such empathy for another person. For so long, she had been so mired in her own grief and the weight of Ben's death and the implosion of her marriage that she'd turned it all inward. She hadn’t been able to see anyone else’s pain but her own. All of that had changed, which allowed her to explore what this was with Jaime.

She loved the steps she'd taken, the growth she'd experienced, and how she had been able to be there for Jaime. It gave her such hope for the two of them and this relationship they were embarking on. Sansa knew that she had more work to do – this grief over Ben would be something she had to learn to live with. But Jaime understood that – and accepted it, and was there for her through those ups and down.

And Sansa loved that could be strong for him as well, that she had something to add to their relationship. There was nothing one side about them.

What they had was so special, and so unlike anything, Sansa had thought she might have again. If she were honest, before she had come to Skene, Sansa had imagined she'd be alone for the rest of her life. There wasn’t any world in which she could have seen all of this happening.

As hurt as she was, as awful as the meddling had been, she was so grateful to this little island. It had given her so much more than it had taken from her. She was the embodiment of giving someone a second chance. She understood what it was like to be a crummy friend and a shitty sister. And yet, people in her life hadn't given up on her.

So she wasn't going to give up on the eight meddlers. It might take time, but she knew that they could make amends so that they could all peacefully co-exist here.

Smiling to herself as she thought about all the little kisses and touches from last night as she lay in bed, she heard her phone chime. Thinking it was Jaime, she eagerly reached for it.

**Arya: San! Time for a chat?**

Sansa shook her head, laughing at how she'd just been thinking about her family.

**Sansa: Yup.**

Her phone rang, and Sansa opened it. Since it was only Arya, Sansa didn't care much about the bed head as her sister’s face filled her screen.

"Are you still in bed?"

Sansa grinned. "Yup."

Arya's eyebrows winged up. "Woah. What's going on, sissy?" Sansa was known in her family as being an early riser, so this was a bit unusual.

Settling back against her pillows, Sansa told Arya the entire meddling story, including the confrontations last night at the pub.

Arya snorted and gave Sansa a look.

"What?"

Arya rolled her eyes.

"Sansa, these people live on an island with less than a thousand people. You and Jaime were fresh meat. How the hell did you ever think they'd stay out of your lives?"

"But… it was intrusive."

Arya shrugged, and buttered her bagel, munching on it.

"Yeah, but like what the hell else do they have going on? Especially in winter. You were primo entertainment."

"But…" Sansa frowned. Arya was actually making sense.

"It wasn't right."

"Nope. It wasn't. But, answer me this. Are they bad people?"

Sansa sighed. "No. They aren't. Nosy. They have no clue about personal space. And Val is a bit too perfect for me, but they aren't bad."

Arya shoved the last of her bagel in her mouth, talking with her mouth full. "Well, you moved there. So I guess you have to decide if you want to leave or stay and try to forgive them."

Sansa pouted. "But they just so …. Ugh. They have to know everything."

Arya laughed. "Well yeah. I can imagine. But that's who they are. You moved to _their_ island."

Sansa thought about that, twirling a lock of hair. Bored with the meddlers, Arya's eyes narrowed.

"Is that a hickey?" her sister demanded.

Sansa blushed red and reached up to feel her neck.

"No. Yes. Maybe."

"Oh my god! You kissed JAIME?!" Arya shrieked.

Sansa could feel the heat in her face, but instead of pretending it didn't happen, she giggled. "Yup. Lots. Lots and lots and lots."

"OH MY GOD, when? And why are we talking about the meddlers when there was kissing happening????!!!!”

Sansa told Arya all about how Jaime brought her back to the cottage and how worried he was that she was going to leave, and how he said she just had to tell him where she was going, and he'd follow her.

Arya whistled. "Wow. He sounds like a keeper, San."

"He's so amazing, Arya. I mean, he was so hurt last night. He felt so betrayed, and I was able to be there for him. Do you know what that felt like?" Sansa wiped away the tears, the emotions of the night before bubbling over.

Arya's face softened. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve it."

"Yeah, he's just so good, Arya. And he’s so romantic and handsome," Sansa gushed.

Arya laughed. Everyone in their family knew that Sansa had a type. Harry had done his level best to destroy that for her, but it appeared Jaime was breaking down Sansa's walls. Sansa loved the golden prince, the charming man that was romantic and sweet and made her the center of his world.

"Well, any man that can make you smile like that is worth a chance in my books."

They talked some more, about Winterfell, and their family. Robb and Marg were busy nesting, with the baby due in June.

"She's going to want you to come to the baby shower," Arya said, giving Sansa a sympathetic look.

Sansa sighed and thought about that. She'd made amazing progress, but she wasn't sure about attending Marg’s baby shower. It just seemed like a lot right now.

"Well, I have a few weeks to think about it, right?"

Arya nodded. "Yah, Marg doesn't want to have it until after the baby’s born. She's so busy trying to come up with every single name related to roses that it's nauseating. Rose, of course. Rosie. Rosemary. Fleur. Briar.” Arya rolled her eyes, although Sansa didn’t mind Briar.

Sansa gave a tense little laugh, but the warm, gooey feeling she'd woken up with was gone. It hurt to think about another grandchild for her parents when her son was dead. She knew that there would be other grandkids. Feeling bad about that made Sansa feel worse about herself, even though she understood why and it was logical, given her circumstances. Still, it was a vicious cycle and one she was trying to snap out of.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Arya said, looking dejected.

"No, Arya, it's not your fault. At all. It's me. My shit."

"Maybe, but I'm here for you, Sansa. And if you can't come, I'll help you deal with the fallout."

Sansa thanked her, knowing her mother would never forgive her. It would be unconscionable if Sansa were to miss, and even the ‘dead son’ excuse wouldn’t hold up. 

She hung up with Arya, lost in thoughts about the tangle that was family. It was so hard sometimes, to be close to those that you were related to.

It had been easier to open up to Jaime, yell and rage, scream at him, and then try to put herself back together. Even now if she had a bad day, or was angry for no apparent reason, Sansa knew that he'd support her.

With her family there was a lot of guilt and misunderstanding. It sucked.

Sansa pulled the pillow over her face, screaming into it.

She didn't want to be at odds with her family. But it just hurt. So many of her memories of Ben were tied up with them. They'd loved him from the moment she'd announced her pregnancy, which she adored.

But it was hard, now, that he was gone. They expected her to be what she used to be, and she wasn't. She never would be again.

So much of what she had been, her dreams, her hopes, had been shattered, and not only because of Ben, his illness and his passing. But because of Harry as well.

Sansa looked down at her bare hand, where her engagement and wedding rings had once been. It was still a bit of a shock to not see them there.

She had never wanted to be a divorced woman.

She believed in marriage – in what it stood for. She had believed that she would be married only once in her life – until death do they part.

Even drifting apart from Harry, she'd been willing to work on her marriage. Eventually. When the worst of her grief had passed. But Harry hadn’t waited for her, or them. He hadn’t given them a chance to work on anything.

But once she'd found the mistress, Sansa had been done. It hadn't been a fling – Harry had an entire relationship with another woman, while she was going through the worst time of her life. It had been a betrayal that Sansa had been unwilling to forgive, not that Harry had cared. He was done with her and her heavy cloak of sadness.

If she were brutally honest with herself, Sansa knew that it would never have worked long term with Harry.

They didn't want the same things in life.

Sansa was all about home, family, having a partner, working towards goals and dreams together. She liked the big, messy parts of life, with lots of laughter and fun.

Harry was a social climber that wanted to rule the business world. She was little more than an accessory to him at the end.

Part of her wondered if she would have ever worked up the nerve to leave him, knowing that she wasn't happy, even if Ben had lived. But she'd never know, since everything that had happened had forced her hand, so to speak.

Suddenly fed up with her mood, and the past, Sansa all but leapt from the bed, needing to do something. She knew that Jaime would have to talk with Brienne and Pod today, and that couldn't be easy, so she sent him a quick text message.

**Sansa: Want to meet for coffee at Mayra's? My treat?**

He responded immediately, which made Sansa smile. There were no games with Jaime. He liked her and wasn't afraid of her knowing that. It was so refreshing and so good for her ego.

**Jaime: My Sansa, are you bribing me?**

**Sansa: LOL you'll know when I bride you, Jaime**

**Jaime: Oh, well, now I'm intrigued. Tell me, does this count as a wooing? Because between dinner last night and coffee this morning, you're stealing my thunder, darling.**

**Sansa: Trust me, Jaime. You will have plenty of time to woo me.**

**Jaime: Excellent. See you in half an hour.**

**Sansa was smiling as she rushed to get ready, hearing her phone chime again.**

**Jaime: And Sansa? Thank you**

Adoring him, she did a half braid in her hair, donned leggings, a sweater and her hunter boots, grabbed her purse and sunglasses and was out the door fifteen minutes later. Yesterday's dreary weather had once again given way to a gorgeous spring day, and Sansa revelled in the sunshine.

She stood for a minute, probably looking like an idiot, as she inhaled the clean, fresh, Skene air. Gods, she did love it here. She felt like she had space and time to think. Nothing moved quickly on Skene. Grinning to herself, she sucked in one more big lungful then she was on her way.

She drove by Sandor's place and saw him outside, talking to the chickens. Being spring, he had to have lambs that were being born soon, and she remembered how devastated he'd looked yesterday. This whole meddling thing was just such a mess. Making an impromptu decision, she turned into his driveway.

She caught the look of surprise on his face and watched as he jammed his hands in his pockets. He was uncertain and that tugged at her heart. He was a good guy, who’d got caught up in it all. As she got out of her vehicle, he didn't say anything to her, and his scowl wasn't too bad. She wandered up to the front of the barn, still saying nothing. When she got closer, she saw he still looked devastated.

"His name was Ben," she said softly.

Sandor's eyes widened, and he stilled. She liked that about him. He listened. He paid attention. He was a good friend, once you got past the gruff exterior. Seeing the interest in Sandor’s eyes, Sansa took a deep breath and spoke.

"His name was Ben, and he was just over three when he died. He loved animals – all kinds, but especially farm animals. When I got to Skene, my first thought was how much he'd have loved it here."

Sandor still said nothing, but his eyes looked sad. He had such empathy there.

"He'd have loved everything about this island. The people, the ocean, the animals."

Sandor gave her a little nod, finally saying something. "Yeah. It's a good place."

"It is a good place."

They were quiet for a time, comfortable with each other, as they watched the chickens peck at the ground. Their pen was huge, so they were basically free range.

"Do you want to see him?" Sansa asked suddenly.

Sandor startled a bit, then said, "Sure."

She took out her phone and found a picture of them together. Ben was bald due to his cancer treatments, but he was smiling as he was holding a bunny.

"The hospital where he was at, well, they sometimes brought different animals in. This day was a bunny. He giggled so much, feeling how soft he was," Sansa said, ending on a sob. She could see recall with perfect clarity everything about that day. It had been a good one, and Ben had talked about the bunny for a few days, even as his treatments made him sick.

She found herself wrapped up in Sandor's arms as she cried.

"Ahh fuck, little bird. I'm so fucking sorry," he said.

She heard it in his voice; how he was sorry for this pain she was going through. But it also felt good, to share Ben with people – people that didn't know him when he was alive. Now Sandor knew him, and it felt right. It felt like Ben mattered, to more than just her. It felt like Ben’s memory was alive, since she wasn’t hogging him all to herself.

"I know. I do know that,” Sansa said, suddenly embarrassed. She was wiping at her eyes when Sandor handed her a clean handkerchief.

He scowled at her arched eyebrow. Who knew Sandor had a handkerchief?

"IaskedJeyneout," he mumbled, and Sansa's lips twitched.

"Ummm, I'm sorry. What was that?"

Sandor rolled his eyes at her. "I said," he snarled, enunciating each word, "I. Asked. Jeyne. Out."

Sansa grinned.

"You're a fucking meddler as well," Sandor grumbled.

"I am not!" she protested hotly. "I didn't force you to do a thing. You did it on your own."

He gave her a look that said she was fooling no one. Then she laughed, glancing at the time.

"Crap. I have to go. Ummm, thanks. For listening."

Sandor nodded. "Lambs should be here soon. Do you wanna see them?"

The grin that split her face was huge. "Heck yeah, I do!"

"I'll call you," Sandor said.

Both of them knew they'd turned a vital corner in patching things up. Sansa hummed off-key as she arrived in the village, feeling good that at least one relationship was going to be ok.

She parked in front of the café and got out of her vehicle, seeing that Jaime was already inside, and at a table. She pouted when she slid into the seat next to him and saw that he had ordered, then quickly lost the pout as he cupped her neck and drew her closer for a kiss.

She sunk into it, loving how his lips felt on hers. He was a great kisser, using his entire mouth, not rushing anything. It was as if he had all the time in the world, that she was important, and Sansa wrapped her arms around him, to press closer to him.

Her mind went blank, as Jaime titled his head and then deepened the kiss. Desire just poured through Sansa, so unexpectedly lovely that she gave a little moan and clutched at Jaime.

She was panting by the time they parted, a warm smile on his handsome face.

"Morning, Sansa," he said. She loved how Jaime said her name, all dreamy-like.

She brushed her hands through his hair, which he'd allowed to grow longer over the winter months on Skene, the blonde darker now. She imagined it would go blonder with the increased sunlight, and summer that was on its way.

"Morning, Jaime."

She grinned for a minute longer at him, taking in just how sexy he was before she looked down at the latte waiting for her.

"You stole my thunder. I was supposed to buy you coffee to cheer you up for what is sure to be an unpleasant conversation," she said, taking her first delicious sip.

Jaime shrugged, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I was closer. And I was hungry."

He didn't say anything about Brienne and Pod.

Nodding in understanding, Sansa let it go. Jaime might think he was doing an excellent job at hiding what he was feeling, but she could see the nerves almost radiating off of him.

"So, I spoke with my sister this morning, and I stopped by Sandor's before coming here," she told him, hoping to distract him.

"Busy morning," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

She nodded. "It was. And my sister said some really insightful things."

"Yeah?" He arched one eyebrow, and for a moment, Sansa was struck by his beauty. Then she shook her head. She could get lost just looking at Jaime.

"Anyways, she basically just said that this is small island life and that we were entertainment. Not that she excused what they did – at all. But," Sansa said, pausing to drink.

Jaime reached out to touch her cheek with his finger. "But if we like it here, we need to adjust to the meddlers?" he finished. His lips had twisted a bit, as if he got it, but that didn’t alleviate his hurt. She didn’t blame him at all.

Sansa gave a little shrug, then played with a napkin, shredding it a bit.

"I'm upset as well. I am. And the fact that they lied, afterwards, is awful. But I do like Skene, Jaime."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Sansa, I'm glad you like Skene. I like it as well. It's just going to take me a bit."

Empathy rushed through her, and she pressed a hand to his chest, hoping he understood that she wasn’t choosing Skene over him. She wasn’t at all. She just wanted to see if they could work things out.

"Oh, I completely understand. I mean, me too. And some seem easier to forgive than others, which sort of makes me feel bad. But I'm here for you. I'm totally Team Jaime. I just …" she bit her lip.

"You like Skene, and you don't want to leave."

"I don't," she said in a rush, grateful he understood. Skene had given her so much, and she wasn’t ready to give up on it. Not yet. Not unless they had too.

His smile was soft. "I don't want to leave either. So we'll figure this out. Just … give me a bit, alright?"

"Oh, babe, I'll give you as much time as you need."

His eyes darkened with the endearment, and for a moment, Sansa wondered if he was the type of man that might not like that. Harry had hated it. But Jaime seemed to like it. A lot.

"I know. I know that you're here for me, and that makes all of this bearable, Sansa."

“Good.”

Pleased, she ate some of her cinnamon bun and told Jaime about her conversation with Sandor, including how she shared Ben with him and that she'd been invited to see the lambs.

"Oh! And the best part was that he said he'd asked Jeyne out!" Sansa clapped her hands at this.

Jaimee chuckled softly. "That's meddling, baby."

What was it that made her go gooey being called baby?

She melted.

"It wasn't really. It was a suggestion," she said primly before Jaime's lips were on hers again.

“Meddler,” he whispered in her ear.

She giggled as he kissed her, wondering how it was possible to feel this great, after such an awful evening.

"I have one more favour to ask," she said, sitting so close to him she was practically on his lap. This was the very best way to start her mornings, all snuggled up with Jaime, kisses whenever she wanted.

"Hmmm?" he asked.

He was nuzzling her forehead, where her hair was pulled back, and it sent little tingles of awareness throughout her body. This was so delightful, having Jaime free to touch her. Gods, she loved this feeling. It was so delicious.

"I need the email addresses of the meddlers," she told him.

He paused and gave her a look.

Sansa fiddled with the collar on his shirt.

"Look, I want to make things right, but I also don't want them bombarding me. Or us. So I figure if I can send something out to them, it might be easier – for them to understand what we need, without making it awful and awkward.”

He gave a slow nod. "Alright."

She could tell he had something on his mind, though, so she didn't let it go.

"What?"

He gave a bit of a sigh and shuffled a bit. "It's just … I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to do. Or how I'm supposed to feel. Last night, you were as angry and as hurt as I was. And then this morning, well …" He gave a tiny little shrug. “You’re different.”

Sansa swallowed hard. Perhaps it did look like she was moving towards the forgiveness part fast. But she knew what it was like to be at such odds with people. And she didn’t like that feeling. If she let herself, Sansa could hold onto the anger and the hurt. But she didn’t think that would do either of them any good.

"Jaime, I'm not happy with how things went. I still am upset – for both of us. I have no idea how I might make things work with Val. I scoped out the café before I entered to make sure we were good and that she wasn’t here. Jon hurt me, as did Pod and Wyn. I don’t even want to discuss Brienne. I'm working on things with Sandor, but they aren't perfect. But, people aren't perfect either. We make mistakes, and I just …. Well, you've helped me find this empathy feeling I've been missing for so long. Maybe I'm a bit high on that," she finished, hoping he got it.

She worried her bottom lip, hoping Jaime didn't think she wasn't aware of what he was going through. She was. As long as he needed, Sansa would support him. She just thought that it was helpful if one of them could remain a bit less angry and upset.

"Ahhh, fuck," he muttered. "Come here," he said, opening his arms so she could snuggle in. Mayra had the best benches in this café, deep and wide and perfect for this. Sansa loved being held by Jaime.

"I'm just in a bad mood because I have to go and speak with Pod and Brienne. And it hurts. A lot."

"I know." She did. Sansa got it.

"I know you do. I think email is a good idea. I'll get those for you and bring them by your place tonight."

She titled her head up. "So, you're coming for dinner?" She had hoped he would – sort of assumed it. But it was nice to hear he’d been thinking the same thing.

Jaime gave a soft chuckle. "I guess that was poorly done of me, wasn't it? Just assuming and inviting myself over.”

Sansa frowned. "What do you mean? You're always welcome, Jaime. You can come for dinner every night. I love having you at the cottage. It's like, our place, you know?"

Since their eyes were locked on one another, Sansa didn't miss the emotion that was there, in Jaime's. It was huge, and it was scary, and Sansa was pretty sure she was feeling the exact same way. The cottage was ‘their’ place. They both knew it – both felt it. Sansa had just verbalized it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick, roughened with emotion.

"My entire life, I've been searching for a place to belong. Who knew it was here, with you, on this island?"

"Jaime," Sansa breathed, before kissing him again. "You are welcome in all parts of my life. So yes, please come to dinner tonight. And tomorrow night as well. And if I have to keep inviting you, until you just show up, then I will. Because I want you there, with me."

He rested his forehead against hers. "This conversation is going to be awful, Sansa. But it's better, knowing I get to see you at the end. Knowing that no matter what I feel, you’ll be waiting for me.”

She hugged him hard. This man felt so profoundly and cared so much. She was so fortunate she'd come to Skene and met him. She was so very grateful that he'd pushed her, taken a chance on her, hadn't given up on her. She was so happy he liked her, as she liked him.

"I'll be waiting." It was a promise, of more than just tonight, and they both knew it.

"Can I bring anything?"

Sansa shook her head, meaning it. She wanted to be there for him tonight, knowing his day would be hard.

"Just you, Jaime. That's all I need. Just you.”

It was the truth, Sansa realized. She just needed Jaime.

She did like Skene, a lot. But if he couldn't be happy here, then they would find somewhere they could be. Because what had been missing from her life was this man.

It wasn't hard to imagine that if she'd met him as a single mother, recently divorced, that Ben would have loved Jaime, and Jaime would have loved Ben. If she tried, she could see them together, blonds heads, giggling about something.

And while that thought was bittersweet, it was also amazing. Because Sansa knew that Jaime was her second chance at happiness. This life wasn’t the one she'd planned when she'd been younger. Back then, in university, she hadn’t known how the world could chew you up and spit you out.

But, here, now? With this man? This future was good. It was a new one, a different one. And one she desperately wanted.

"I'll be there," he told her. "I love your cottage, Sansa."

And that was the truth of Jaime. When he said something, he meant. He loved being there with her. It was a cozy, simple place and he loved it.

"I do, as well. Now, let's get you to work," she said, knowing he needed to do this.

She had things to do as well today, after her shift at the library. She wanted dinner to be perfect and had just the plan to cheer Jaime up.

As he walked her to her vehicle, still holding her hand, Sansa squeezed his hand.

"Since you hijacked the wooing this morning, it's my turn tonight."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she just laughed, kissed him hard and hopped into the small side by side before he could argue. She tooted her horn as she drove away, glancing back and seeing his hand raised in a wave.

He looked so lonely, standing there by himself. But he wouldn't be alone for long. Because Jaime had her.

Grinning now, Sansa began to make plans, plans she called _cheer Jaime up!_

Pleased with herself, and the progress they'd made, Sansa thought about everything that had happened. She just had a feeling that when they did work through everything with the meddlers, those friendships that survived would be stronger and better.

And she knew that some friendships might not survive the meddling. She knew things were rocky right now, and she was surprisingly ok with that. Sometimes, people just didn't mesh.

So they'd give it their best shot on Skene and hope things could work out here. But the one thing Sansa was sure of, was that she wasn't giving up Jaime for anything, or anyone. Not even eight well-intentioned by nosy people on the island of Skene.

If Jaime couldn't be happy here, well, Sansa was prepared to drag him all over Westeros, finding somewhere they could be happy – together.

What was important was what she felt for Jaime; what they were building. As long as they had one another, Sansa knew things would work out as they were meant to be. Of that, she had not a single doubt. Because she was Jaime's barnacle, and he was hers. And that meant Sansa was sticking by his side, through whatever this life threw at them. Excited about tonight, and making Jaime happy, Sansa smiled as she started her day, knowing that sometimes you had to weather the storm, to get to the rainbow on the other side.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime talks with Brienne and Pod, then goes home to Sansa  
> Sansa sends her emails, and talks with Jon


	20. “OMG, I love Jaime Lannister!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime confronts Brienne and Pod and then heads to Sansa's for some much needed recovery

* * *

_ Jaime talks to Brienne and Pod _

Jaime stood there, outside the café, watching Sansa drive away, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't feel quite so miserable as he had when he'd woken up a few hours ago, the 'meddling' coming back in full technicolour when wakefulness had come. The betrayal by his friends stung.

Meeting with Sansa, touching her, kissing her, speaking with her, had grounded him. Had made him feel connected to another person who had chosen him.

Gods, she was terrific.

She was his barnacle. His miracle. The woman he was deeply, irrevocably in love with. No matter what happened in Jaime's life, she had stolen his heart. She had all of him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. She might be a risk, but she was worth it. Gods, she was so fucking worth it.

He wondered if she had any idea how much she'd done for him?

Likely not.

Even as he'd tried to explain what her faith in him did to him, he wasn't sure she got it. He wasn’t sure she understood the damage that had been done in his life.

Last night, when he'd made his way to her cottage, he had been so sure that she was going to leave when she found out what the meddlers had done.

And yeah, she'd been angry, and rightly so.

But her overarching emotion, her primary concern, had been him.

_Him!_

Gods, no one had ever made him their priority before. No one had ever put his needs above their own emotional state.

No one.

But she had.

Sansa had. Even as broken as she thought she was, she’d just gone to the wall for him.

And the most miraculous part? She wanted a life here with him. With a man that had been a cheater, even given her own painful history with her ex-husband. Jaime had always hoped that the right woman would see beyond his one mistake, to the man he was beneath that shitty choice. But if he were being honest, there was a part of him that feared no woman would.

Sansa had. It was life-changing, for both of them.

Jaime still had shit to work out when it came to Skene. He loved it here, and there was no denying that.

But he felt that tug of obligation to King's Landing, and to the good, he could do there. While he didn't have an answer at this exact moment, on where their future was, Jaime knew that his future was Sansa. Wherever she would be happy, that was where he would be.

She was who he'd been waiting for. She was the other half of his heart.

And because of her, Jaime knew that the following conversation with Brienne and Pod wouldn't be quite so brutal as it would have been had he been alone.

For the first time in his life, he had somewhere to go at the end of the day.

He belonged.

To Sansa.

To them.

To what they were building.

He was welcomed openly, with no secrets between them. It was an incredible feeling.

When her little vehicle turned the corner, Jaime finally allowed himself to turn towards the tiny station.

Once again, Jaime felt the hurt and the disappointment in his staff. Deciding he'd keep this professional, Jaime organized his thoughts. He'd focus on their poor decision making, ignoring, for now, the emotional impact of their actions – how it might have affected the friendships he had with them.

It was an afront to their profession, what they had done, and that was what he would address.

It was the one constant in Jaime's life – no matter the poor decisions he'd made in his personal life, he'd done well in his career. Even that 'issue' with Euron, Cersei and Robert had proven him out in the end. Jaime had been exonerated of any wrongdoing. Jaime had always been an excellent cop.

 _Gods, there were so many layers to this fucking mess_ , Jaime thought as he hunched his shoulders and walked towards the station.

The worst part was he knew what he'd find when he opened the doors to the station.

It was clear that Brienne and Pod didn't respect him the way he'd assumed. Had they seen him for the boss, for the Chief he was hired to be, no way they would have done what they did.

So maybe part of this was on him as well.

Not the lying. Jaime had worked through enough therapy not to take on the actions of others. They were adults. They'd done this. They were responsible for their choices – not him.

But, maybe, there was something he hadn't done properly when he'd come to Skene, for them to think that this was acceptable.

Had he been too causal? Too easy-going?

He could admit he'd loved that almost instant acceptance he'd felt when he'd moved here. Had that contributed to this entire situation?

Beyond friendship, as officers of the law, what they had done was wrong. And that needed to be addressed. No way Jaime could look himself in the mirror if he didn’t tackle this issue here and now.

Jaime wondered if he hadn't presented himself as someone who would be upset if the people who reported to him did something as dangerous as they had. Which seemed ridiculous, because both Pod and Brienne were well aware of the type of cop that Jaime was. They’d spoken at length about it. It made their actions all the more baffling.

As predicted, he entered the station to two diametrically reactions to the meddling.

Pod was almost shaking, clearly having taken Jaime and Sansa's anger and his role in this entire mess to heart.

And Brienne?

Well, she was a strange mix between defiance and cluelessness. And defensiveness if the crossed arms and tilt to her chin were anything to go by.

Jaime acknowledged both of them and then took a seat in the small bullpen, his eyes not even straying towards his official office. That wasn't his style, and Jaime was almost pleased to realize that he still didn't believe he needed to 'separate' himself from those he worked with.

Feeling a bit more settled as the station's smells and familiarity washed over him, Jaime prepared himself for this talk. It wouldn't be easy, but he did believe that there was a way to rebuild the trust that had been broken. It would be hard work and take effort by all three of them, but it was possible.

After all, that's what Barristan had done for him, by giving him this chance on Skene. And Jaime was a man that believed in second chances and forgiveness. After all, had he not, he’d be a hypocrite.

Satisfied with his approach, Jaime cleared his throat.

"I'm disappointed," he said, realizing now why it was such a compelling statement that parents used. It was true. And hard to hear. Was there anything worse than ‘disappointing’ someone? Especially someone you looked up to?

Jaime swore Pod shook harder, while Brienne frowned.

He leaned forward on his desk, his eyes intense.

"Your behaviour was inexcusable for the jobs that you hold. We are entrusted with upholding the law. We must be above reproach. If word were to spread about your involvement in what we shall call ‘the incident,’ it would throw into doubt our professions and could jeopardize our good standing here on Skene, with the people were are sworn to serve and protect.”

Brienne shook her head. "That's a bit much, Jaime." It was more than clear she thought he was being dramatic. Jaime wasn’t. He was deadly serious.

"Chief," he countered, voice hard. Jaime was not a man that angered quickly, nor one that showed it.

His anger wasn't flashy; it wasn't hot. It was cold. Ice cold and dangerous.

Brienne's spine stiffened as if she realized just how pissed he was. And not at her as a friend. But as an officer of the law.

"Chief," she said, voice taut. The tension was thick and Jaime knew that at some point, it would come to a head between them. Perhaps not today. But someday.

He gave a curt not.

"I am not out of line, Constable Tarth. You and Payne were. While I have encouraged a casual atmosphere in the station, I never would have condoned knowingly trapping a new resident at her cottage during a winter storm. The fact that you also stranded the Chief of Police for god knows how long was dangerous. Had I been needed for an emergency in town, there would have been no way for me to help. You impeded me from doing my duty."

"We knew you wouldn't hurt her," Brienne said, clearly still confused.

Jaime's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"If you worked in any other station in Westeros, your actions would be cause for suspension. You broke my trust, you lied, and you willingly and actively participated in isolating and stranding the very person you are sworn to protect! You manipulated and lied in an already dangerous, potentially deadly situation to put a citizen in harm's way."

Pod flinched again.

"And clearly I have failed if the two of you thought there is any universe that this wouldn't anger me. The badge might not mean much to you, but it means everything to me. And it should mean something to you."

For a moment, shame crossed over Brienne's face before it was gone. Pod paled further, and Jaime felt for him. It was likely that Pod would never forget this dressing down.

Brienne? She rallied and pushed back.

"We did lie, Jaime, but we knew you could handle things," she countered.

"How can you not see that mistakes were made, Constable Tarth? Do you deny the choices you made? The lying? The harm you put Sansa in? The trust you've broken, not only with me but her? And others? Skene is small. How long before everyone on the island knows about this?"

She scoffed, and Jaime knew that the next words that came from her mouth would hurt him.

"And who are you to lecture us? We all know what you are Jaime. We all know what you were involved in. Now you want to tell me that the badge means something? The man who lied to how many people to cover up his affair? His years' long affair? Your history doesn't exactly lend itself to throw stones."

Jaime wanted to yell back.

To deny that what he'd done was equivalent to her choice.

He wanted to defend himself, defend the love he'd thought he'd felt for Cersei, to say that he hadn’t harmed anyone. But that wasn’t the truth and that wasn’t the issue before them.

Their choices were. 

Instead, he did none of that. He pushed down his temper and cooled his eyes.

"When you screw up Brienne, there are consequences. Take that bit of advice from me."

She had no answer for that but crossed her arms across her chest in defiance as her chin tilted upwards.

"From this day forward, things need to change. Gone is the casualness in which we've operated. Tasks need to be taken seriously, and you two will need to rebuild trust. Yes, the island is small, but that doesn't make our duty any less important."

He had been as lax as they were, and Jaime knew part of this fell on his shoulders. So things would change, starting today.

Pod gave the nod, clearly contrite and understanding, but Brienne's eyes held nothing but anger.

"Are we done? I need to patrol," she bit out. “If that’s ok, Chief.” The last word was almost spat, and Jaime knew he’d further alienated her.

Deciding to give her time, hoping that if she cleared her head, she would understand her actions and their consequences, and Jaime only nodded. She was out of the station before either of them could say anything more. It was probably for the best, Jaime thought. His anger was still there, still simmering.

Her refusal to accept criticism, to see where she had gone wrong, was worrying. More than just their friendship was at stake. If Jaime couldn't trust Brienne, he couldn't work with her. It was vital in their profession.

People made mistakes.

But part of making a mistake owned up to it, asking for forgiveness and making amends.

If she couldn't do that, Jaime would have to be forced to make some very tough decisions when it came to Brienne’s future as a police officer on Skene.

He was roused from his musings as Pod set a cup of coffee down in front of Jaime.

He took a seat and nervously wrung his hands together.

"Pod, I'm not going to yell," Jaime said quietly.

Pod's head bobbed, and the young man swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry I fucked up," he blurted out.

Jaime held Pod's eyes and nodded, not saying anything. It was best if Podrick worked through this himself.

"I see, now, that what we did was wrong. I mean, as your friends, it was wrong. I know that. Trust me, Wyn and I know. But more I get it about our jobs."

There were almost tears in his eyes, and just that quickly, Jaime's anger dissipated. He was never one to hold onto it long. And never when there was genuine regret. People fucked up. Jaime knew this all too well.

"I promise I'll do anything I need to, to make it up to you. To make it up to Sansa. Please, Chief, I love working here," he started to say in a rush, and Jaime realized that Pod was actually worried that he might fire him.

Knowing he had to reassure Pod, that things could work out, Jaime reached out and laid a hand on Pod's shoulder. The young man stopped shaking and looked Jaime in the eyes.

"I can teach you all the policies and procedures in the world, Pod. But being a cop, being a good cop, it's about going with your gut. Thinking for yourself. Assessing each situation. And even if someone is telling you something is right, but your entire body is screaming that things are wrong, then you have to do the right thing, no matter how hard that right thing is.”

Pod swallowed hard and nodded, wiping away the tears.

"I fucked up," he all but whispered.

Jaime gave him a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, you did. But I bet you never do anything that dumb again."

Pod gave a shaky laugh. "Gods no. I won't, Jaime. I promise."

Jaime knew he meant it.

"Podrick, I know what it's like to mess up. To make the wrong call, to make the wrong choice. I've been there."

Pod's eyes widened, and he realized what Jaime was sharing with him. Jaime never spoke of what happened in King's Landing to anyone on Skene.

"How did you get that trust back?"

Jaime gave Pod a rueful smile. "Pod, I'm Chief of Police on Skene."

Pod's laugh was less nervous and more genuine now as they both settled into their chairs.

"Do you regret it? What happened?"

Jaime cocked his head, thinking about the path his life had taken.

A year ago, had someone asked him that question, he would have said one hundred percent that he regretted ever becoming involved with Cersei and the downfall of his career. He'd almost lost everything – not just her, but his badge and the respect of his fellow officers.

But now?

Everything that had happened had led him here to Skene. Lead him here to Sansa.

Jaime wasn't arrogant or fatalistic enough to think that he was meant to be with Cersei to find Sansa. Cersei had done a lot of harm, damaged him in ways that he was still recovering from. The affair would always follow him – and the fallout of how they’d been caught. It wasn’t something that Jaime would ever escape.

But Jaime was able to see that he had ended up in a position to meet and fall in love with Sansa because of the choices he'd made. And he'd never regret that.

"No," he said slowly, shaking his head. He then spoke for a time, telling Pod what he'd gone through, why he'd made some of his decisions, and what he might have done differently.

But regrets? Jaime didn't really believe in those.

"So you're happy here, on Skene?"

Jaime saw the trepidation in which Pod asked this question.

Suddenly, Jaimee understood. Pod was worried that Jaime was leaving at the end of the year. While that had been his plan all along, things had changed so dramatically in the past month, that Jaime couldn't honestly say where he might be at the end of the year.

"Yeah, Pod, I'm happy here on Skene," Jaime told him. Pod flashed him that easy going grin.

 _Gods, he liked this young man,_ Jaime thought. He was a good person and that was a rare enough thing in this world.

"I'm sorry for the lying," Pod said quietly. "Really sorry, Jaime."

Jaime swallowed over the lump in his throat. Somehow Sansa had been correct. These weren't bad people, just people that had made a bad choice.

It would take some time. Jaime was still a bit raw from their deception. But gods, he could already feel the worst edge of his anger slipping away. Jaime rose and patted Pod on the back.

"We'll be good, Pod. I just need some time," was all Jaime said.

Pod accepted that, and Jaime felt they were as good as they could be for now.

As he left the little station, Jaime briefly wondered where Brienne might have taken herself to. The island wasn't big, but if a person wanted, they could lose themselves here.

Soon enough, she would come back, and they'd have to discuss things further.

But for now, for today, it was enough. Jaime was proud of himself for how he'd conducted himself, and he'd take a drive around Skene to make sure his island was safe and sound. And then he'd make his way to Sansa's. To his love. To the life, he was building with the woman who had stolen his heart and given him back his future.

* * *

_ Cottage – Sansa  _

It took a couple of hours after she'd met Jaime for coffee when her phone dinged to tell her she had a new email. Smiling, she saw that Jaime had come through with the emails for the meddlers. She thought about what she wanted to say all morning as patrons came in and out of the library. Sansa found she enjoyed her work here. There was something about helping someone find a book or introduce them to a new author or help a child pick out a new story that warmed her heart.

It wasn't the intense academic world she was used too, and she found the slower pace of the library suited her. She was still working on her research project, and she knew that she would finish her Ph.D. and defend her thesis. Royce was pleased with her progress and how imbedded she'd become on the tiny island.

That made Sansa snicker. If only he knew.

_Gods, what was it her sister said? Of course, Sansa and Jaime were the entertainment._

Truer words had never been spoken. Small island living was not for those that valued their privacy.

Funnily enough, Sansa was starting to think that perhaps the pros outweighed the cons on Skene.

But, even as she accepted a certain amount of 'interference,' there were lines that had been crossed. Things needed to be said. And a pathway forward established.

Sansa hadn't been lying to Jaime when she told him she loved Skene. She wasn't sure where her life would take her when her year of research was up on the island, but she didn't want Skene to be ‘off the table,’ so to speak because they were social outcasts. If they left Skene, it would be because they chose to. Not because they couldn’t make things work here.

Besides, there was a fair amount of compassion welling up in Sansa when she thought of the meddlers.

People screwed up. Sometimes in the most spectacular ways.

What was that saying? To err is human, but to forgive is divine?

Not that Sansa was equating herself with a divine being – not in the least. But holding onto anger, hurt and frustrations just drained so much out of a person.

She should know. She'd been living with those emotions for two solid years.

Her grief was still there; it might always be there. Sometimes, it came in waves, and there were moments when she felt she was barely holding her head above water when she thought about her son and how he was no longer here. That though was starting to feel normal. Ben deserved to be missed, to be grieved, to be mourned.

But that anger? That rage? She's started to let that go, with Jaime's help, and it felt amazing. Sansa did not want to go back there. And truthfully, she didn't believe Jaime wanted that either. It was so destructive and hurtful – to them and to others.

She made a fresh pot of tea and settled down to type, hoping she was making the right call with the email idea.

_Dear Jon, Val, Bronn, Tormund, Brienne, Pod, Wyn and Sandor_

_While it has only been a few short hours since the confrontation in the pub, I wanted to take a few moments of your time to attempt to explain how I am feeling in light of what I have learned and what was shared last night._

_I hope you will give me this time._

_I came to this island a stranger, on a journey for myself. I realize how hurt and angry and how much my grief was still fueling my emotions. I make no apologies for what I felt; for what I continue to feel. No parent should ever have to bury a child. It changes a person. There are still moments, days, and even weeks when I might be a right miserable human being to be around. Sometimes, the most innocuous thing can trigger a memory, which cascades into unimaginable pain. My son is always with me, and I feel his loss from the moment I wake up until I close my eyes at night._

_I do apologize for being unable to express what I was going through adequately to convey that your acceptance of me on this island was enough. I didn't need more than just to be afforded a place to live here and discover Skene on my own. As much as it might have been hard for you to understand, what I needed was space._

_I know that your … interfering came from a place of good intentions. Still, for myself, given what I had been through, this interference, even from a place of good intentions, was not well received._

_Perhaps some of that is on me. I, after all, came to YOUR island. I am the outsider, the stranger, the closed-off woman who rarely smiles._

_But there was a reason for that. An excellent reason. A reason I didn’t want to share._

_There was a part of me that liked being an unknown quantity on the island. I liked that here I had no history with anyone here – that no one knew Ben, and that no one gave me pitying looks. In short, I liked that no one knew me as the woman whose child had died. I’ve endured more than one pitying glance since Ben’s death._

_I was okay with being that bitchy woman from the mainland. Imagine that as a change of pace!_

_I like Skene. It is beautiful, wild and untamed. Some moments, when I stand at the edge of the cliff, I swear I am the only person alive in this entire universe. There are moments when I can see my son so acutely here, it hurts. I wished he could have experienced Skene. I know he would love it. And that hurts. I think it will always hurt when I think of Ben and all the things he won’t be able to do or see. I think my life will always be somewhat bittersweet. And I am learning to live with that, one day at a time._

_I might never be that happy-go-lucky person that makes up your inner circle. And I am okay with that – the real issue is, can you all accept that?_

_I am not quite sure what I am, other than a work in progress. And I am proud of that. I need all of you to be alright with that as well. To let me do this at my own pace, and trust, that if I can, I will ask for help._

_I need some time, but I hope to find a way to co-exist with you all, without animosity or anger. Life is too short to live without forgiveness. I ask for time, now, to come to you. To approach you when I am ready._

_Sincerely,_

_Sansa Stark_

_A resident of Skene (even if it is only temporary)_

It took her hours and several re-reads before Sansa was happy with the email. She sent a quick text to Jaime, asking if he had time to read it before sending it out.

His response was immediate.

**Jaime: Of course. Send it over**

She did and then went about cleaning the library, getting ready to close for the day. One thing she wanted was to be able to live on Skene and see the meddlers out and about. Maybe they would never be best friends, but they could surely find a way to co-exist on the island.

Sansa paced a little, not having heard back from Jaime while she was closing up. Perhaps it wasn't the right approach and he didn’t like her email.

All the way home, she fretted and then puttered around her kitchen. She wasn't expecting Jaime for at least a few hours, but she was going to be a nervous wreck at this point since she hadn’t heard from him.

Finally, her phone chimed again.

 **Jaime: Sorry. Buttercup emergency!** **🐑** **Sansa, the email is incredible! You are so amazing, babe** **❤** **❤** **❤** **❤**

Ridiculously pleased that Jaime liked her email, Sansa hurried to her laptop and sent it off. She felt good about the approach she was taking. It felt like a balance between laying out her boundaries, while at the same time, allowing room to move forward.

Also, his little sheep emoji just made her entire day. This man!

**Sansa: How went the talk?**

**Jaime: 1 for 2** **🤷** **🙄**

Sansa snorted. She had no doubt who the one was that Jaime referred to.

**Sansa: Give it time.**

**Jaime: Yeah. Oh well. Can I bring anything? I have a few more hours to go then I'll be by.** **🍷** **🥘**

 **Sansa: Nope. Just you** **💋**

 **Jaime: Sounds perfect. See you soon** **❤**

Setting her phone down, Sansa chose an upbeat playlist that she hadn't listened to for an age. She opened windows and set about to make her famous lemon chicken, creamy mushroom risotto and buttery rosemary carrots. The meal would be light and delicious and pair well with some white wine. For dessert, she had fresh strawberries, with sponge cake and fresh whipped cream.

Maybe later, Jaime might want to do some more stargazing, or even watch a movie or play a board game. Their options were endless, and Sansa hummed and smiled to herself as she chopped and diced, stirred and cooked. It was lovely to have a man that she loved, coming to her home, whom appreciated her cooking and that she had a future with.

Sansa stilled.

Oh. My. God.

She loved Jaime Lannister. She covered her mouth and then gave a nervous giggle, before she whispered out loud, to no one.

“I love Jaime Lannister.”

She stood still, letting the words out into the ether, worried that they might not be true now that she’d given them a voice. But she was delighted to find there were 100% accurate. She twirled around her kitchen.

Sansa Stark loved Jaime Lannister. 

Neither had said anything definitive, but Sansa knew that Jaime was a man that was worth building a future around.

She thought about the young woman she had been ten years ago when she'd gone to Oldtown, so convinced that if she just kept her heart and her eyes open, she'd find her 'prince.' Harry had met that description physically, but she'd been so young and naïve that she'd missed some of the real warning signs that they weren't really compatible.

With Jaime, nothing had been easy. They'd fought hard to end up where they were. And that made everything feel that much sweeter.

She trusted Jaime with parts of herself that Sansa hadn't even known she could trust a man with.

She trusted him with her heart – that he wouldn't unnecessarily hurt her.

She trusted him to be truthful with her – even when she might not want when to hear those truths.

She trusted him to be loyal and faithful – which might seem completely at odds with his reputation, but she did. Jaime was not the type of man that would even look at another woman when he was with her.

She trusted him to love her, fully, deeply and completely.

And she trusted that they would make decisions in their life together.

It was amazing when she thought of how angry and alone she had been when she first arrived on Skene. It was hard to recognize that person that she was, with the one she was today. It would hardly be a stretch to say that she'd been reborn on this island, bathed in the fire of accountability that Jaime had doled out, and then soothed by his unconditional love.

With dinner well underway, Sansa went to putter around outside her cottage. Spring was here, and there were some flowerbeds she was dying to get her hands on. Digging in the dirt was something that Sansa had always wanted to do. Living here, at Maege's cottage, she was finally able to indulge that desire and let her mind drift.

And oh boy did it drift. It wandered right into plans for the future and dreams that Sansa had. 

If she were to stay on Skene, she'd want a garden. Somewhere she could grow some vegetables and have raspberry bushes. Maybe even a greenhouse. She'd like a larger house – a real farmhouse with lots of bedrooms with space for those that might want to come and visit.

Perhaps she'd build her imaginary dream house on a plot of land where she could have a sheep or a goat. After all, she was well aware of how well Jaime got along with the livestock on Skene.

Giggling at the thought of farm animals following Jaime around a house they shared together, she didn't realize he had arrived.

He was leaning against the side of the cottage, his buttoned shirt loosened and hands in his pockets. The soft look on his face as he gazed at her warmed Sansa through.

"I want to know exactly what you were thinking," he said.

Sansa cocked her head and gazed around. She wondered if her dream would scare him away. Some men might run screaming from her home should she share what she had been thinking with them.

But she'd vowed to be truthful with Jaime. And this was her truth.

"I was imagining a life on Skene, where I'd have a big old farmhouse, with a plot of land, where I could have a garden and greenhouses. It made me giggle, thinking about having land, where there might be a goat or a sheep that needed a home."

Jaime pushed off from the side of the cottage and strode towards her, kneeling down until his expensive pants were beside her in the dirt. He didn't seem to care in the least that he was ruining them, as he cupped her cheek and stroked it softly.

"And may I be so bold as to ask if I played a part in this dream?"

She could see the hope burn bright in his green eyes.

"If I were to say yes, would that scare you?" she whispered back.

"Gods no baby."

Their eyes locked, and Sansa saw Jaime's breath hitch as something determined and fierce came into his eyes.

"I love you, Sansa. With my entire heart. You are my everything. My world. I know it is fast, but I want a future with you."

Sansa reached up and put her hand over Jaime's, her heart beating rapidly.

"I love you so much, Jaime. I thought this part of my life was over, and I thought I was incapable of feeling such things. And yet, from that first moment I saw you as the ferry brought me here, it was as if you were waiting for me. Only me."

He rested his forehead against hers, then pressed his lips there as they both shook.

Then Sansa gave a little laugh. "Umm, I didn't mean that we had to stay on Skene."

Jaime laughed as they both rose, Sansa feeling the blush rise in cheeks. Jaime wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Sansa, are you already planning our life? Without asking me? Making me the old ball and chain?"

She swatted at him and huffed out a breath.

"Dinner should be ready soon," she said, chin up. Jaime grabbed her and swung her around, and Sansa couldn't help but laugh as she spun in his arms.

"Baby, I love the idea of a big old house here on Skene. And there is a part of me that can't imagine our life anywhere else. But," he said, pausing and looking serious.

"It's King's Landing, right?" Sansa knew this man so well. She knew he took his responsibilities seriously. It was one of the reasons she loved him so damn much.

He nodded and looked worried as if that would somehow change her feelings. Silly man.

"Ahh Jaime, I know. We have time," Sansa said. She gave a little shrug. "I mean, this entire thing happened fast, and I'm just enjoying it. We are in love, and we're here for now. We're barnacles, Jaime. We'll figure this out."

Then Sansa gave him a wink and sailed into the kitchen, leaving a stunned and very in love Jaime Lannister standing in half weeded flowerbeds outside their cottage on Skene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Jaime woos Sansa w/ a date to see the PUFFINS! And more amends are made!


	21. Puffin Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puffin date as the little birds are back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% pure Jaimsa. Enjoy

* * *

_ Early April: Date Day – Jaime _

The rest of the week passed quickly enough, although things were still tense at the station. Brienne hadn't said more than five words to him at a time, and Jaime wasn't willing to budge when it came to how he viewed her meddling. So they existed in some weird state where they were unfailing and awkwardly polite with one other and somehow managed to do their jobs.

Conversely, things between him and Pod were great. Pod had taken Jaime's words to heart and asked what seemed like a million questions when they were on shift together. Pod wanted Jamie to help him become the best police officer he could be.

Jaime and Pod had also headed out to the cliffs to put up the signs, since they both knew the puffins would be arriving any day now and with them, the tourists.

Because Jaime was welcome at Sansa's cottage each evening for dinner, he'd avoided the pub and the market. Jaime still made a point of going into Mayra's café, the library and Dacey's little gallery. There was a presentation Jaime and Pod did at the school, and Tormund had given Jaime a little wave but had given him space. It helped, giving Jaime some time to think and to be honest, heal.

Jon had caught Jaime on one of his patrols, and the two men had acknowledged each other but hadn't said much other than for Jon to tell Jaime he was sorry again.

"We got Sansa's email. We'll give you guys space."

"Thanks," Jaime had responded. He didn't have anything more to add right now. Jaime still felt hurt by their actions. He knew that there would be time to make amends, but Jaime needed more time. After all, it had only been a few days since he'd found out his friends had lied to him.

But all of that was pushed to the back of his mind when Jaime got the call from Mance that the first puffin of the season had been spotted. Within the hour, Jaime knew everyone on the island would know their little friends were back. Tomorrow was Saturday, and since both he and Sansa had the day off, they had already planned on spending the day together, but now Jaime had something extraordinary to show her.

**Jaime: Sansa, this is your Jaime. I am inviting you on a date day tomorrow.**

**Sansa: Why hello Jaime, that would be lovely. What are we doing?**

**Jaime: Puffins babe.**

Jaime's phone rang almost immediately, and he was grinning as he swiped it open to accept her call.

"Oh my god, are you serious? They're back?" Sansa practically squealed.

Jaime chuckled. "Yup. Mance spotted the first one today."

Jaime had a massive grin on his face as he sat back, listening to Sansa talk about going to see the puffins.

"Oh! We should pack another picnic. And maybe we can see the ruins. And then we can make dinner at my place and place some board games. Oh, this is going to be the perfect day, Jaime."

He could hear how happy she was, and since he agreed with her, Jaime was pleased to tell her they could do all those things. He made a note to pick up a few more bottles of wine, some steaks and some flowers for Sansa. Briefly, Jaime wondered if he should pack an overnight bag. So far, he and Sansa had taken things slowly when it came to the physical part of their relationship, which was okay with him. He knew that intimacy would come when Sansa was comfortable. But there was a part of Jaime that didn't want to leave at the end of the night.

When she paused in her chatter, he cleared his throat and felt like a teenager asking the head cheerleader out on a date. And worried she’d say no. Jaime didn’t want to make the wrong move here, but he wanted to be with Sansa all the time.

"Ummm, I have a question for you, Sansa. But there is no pressure."

"Alright," she said quietly, and Jaime almost lost his courage.

In no way did Jaime want her to think that there was any expectation on her – on them. Jaime was so in love with her, and being able to kiss her and hug her was terrific. But he also thought it would be incredible to hold her as she slept; to wake up together the next morning and have breakfast, maybe go for a walk. It would give them more time together, and if he were honest, he was ready for that level of intimacy with her.

"Jaime, why don't you pack an overnight bag," she said, interrupting him.

That's when he realized he'd been quiet for too long as he’d been lost in his own head.

"Sansa, that wasn't…. I didn't mean …."

Her soft laughter stopped him.

"I know you didn't. I know you’re not pressuring me. I know, Jaime. I can't promise I'm ready for …. Gods. I haven't had sex in years, Jaime. I've had a child. I'm not in my early twenties anymore. And my husband wasn't faithful. So yeah, I can't say that the full meal deal is on the table. But I'd like to wake up and see your face first thing in the morning."

Hope and happiness surged through Jaime at her words.

"Oh, Sansa, I want that as well. And it wasn't about sex. I don't want to leave at the end of the night – even if all we do is cuddle."

He heard her take a deep breath and then exhale. She was so brave. He knew this was a significant step for her. For him as well.

“I like cuddling,” she said softly and Jaime could almost feel her in his arms.

"I haven't been with a woman in years, my love. I love you, Sansa. And I want a life with you. I want to spend as much time as I can with you."

"I want that as well," she said in a rush, and Jaime grinned.

"Alright, so it's settled. Puffins, picnic, ruins and board games. And a sleep over."

"It sounds wonderful," she said, and he knew she was telling the truth. Thank the gods!

"And Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"I can always take the couch."

Her warm laughter came across the line, and Jaime knew that any tension between them was now gone. Things were going to be perfect tomorrow.

Jaime spent his Friday evening preparing for his date. He went to the café and begged Mayra for anything lemon that she might have frozen.

"I'm desperate," he said, giving her his best forlorn pout. 

Mayra was immune it seemed to the pout, but took pity on him when he told her of his plans for Sansa.

"Oh, I remember the first time that Davos took me to see the puffins," she said, blushing.

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows. "Mayra, I'm scandalized! Tell me everything!”

She whipped his towel at him but went into the back and returned with some tarts, squares, danishes and muffins.

Jaime slipped her a hundred dollar bill, which she protested, but he didn't care. He knew the sounds that Sansa made when she ate anything lemon. If he had his way, she'd be eating them out of his fingers and making those delightful little moans. Gods, he dick ached. But in the best possible way. Anticipation was so delicious.

He was whistling as he made his way to the little market. Once there, Jaime picked up some crackers, cheese, grapes, steaks, potatoes and some of those coffee drinks he'd seen her suck down.

His woman had a serious caffeine addiction. Jaime loved that. _His woman_. However, Sansa would probably kill him if he said that to her, so he’d just keep that little thought to himself.

He was grinning as he completed his shopping.

After he'd gotten the food, he picked out some good wine and then walked to the checkout.

Ygritte eyed up his purchases and gave a little whistle.

"Someone has a hot date," she said. For some reason, it always came out slightly crude on her. But unbothered, Jaime just smiled.

"I do."

He gave her a look, wondering if she would challenge him on Sansa. Ygritte always seemed to like to rock the boat, but there must have been an edge that she noticed to Jaime, because she just rang him up and told him what he owed.

With that done, Jaime's last stop was the flower shop. He ordered a bouquet of bright yellow flowers, to go with the lemon theme, and paid extra for the shop to be open in the morning so he could pick them up before 8 am. Pleased with himself, Jaime made his way back to his apartment.

The place was still what it always was - functional. It was nothing more than a place to sleep each night, and Jaime hadn't put any effort into personalizing it. He still had his penthouse down in King's Landing, although that place held so little appeal to him, that he almost shuddered when he thought about it. He really should sell it.

Looking around this place, Jaime knew that if they were to stay here, he'd want what Sansa described. Some big farmhouse where they had land and space and room to grow. He wasn't quite sure what their future held, only that Jaime knew he wanted to be with Sansa, wherever that was. They hadn't discussed his job in King's Landing, nor more children.

He knew they would have to. He also knew it wouldn't be a deal-breaker for him – the kids thing. Jaime loved Sansa. If the thought of having another child was too much for her, she was more than enough. She was everything.

That didn't mean that Jaime didn't want a family. He did. But he was also forty-seven this year and had made decisions in his life long before he'd met Sansa that had resulted in no family. The reason Jaime didn't have a family had very little to do with Sansa and very much to do with his own past.

Still, he couldn't help but think about how incredible it might be if she were open to that idea. And not just for him. Sansa was meant to be a mother. She was fantastic with the kids that came into the library, and she just had such a beautiful heart. The idea of her having that chance again sent a thrill of longing and love through Jaime’s blood.

Jaime put the wine in the fridge to cool it and stashed the rest of his goodies before going to his bedroom to pack a bag.

To stay at Sansa's. Gods, he was the luckiest man in the world, to have somehow won her love. And tomorrow was going to be perfect.

* * *

The next morning was bright and sunny, but there was a bit of a breeze. Hoping that the slight chill in the air, wouldn't put off Sansa, Jaime threw an extra sweater into his bag.

He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it. He had an entire day to spend with Sansa and the potential of a sleepover!

He was well aware of how good things were going between them and tried to school himself from becoming too enamoured with the way things had turned out. Sometimes these things could come back and bit him in the ass. But it was impossible to stop himself from just feeling everything when it came to Sansa.

Jaime had always been like this. He loved with his entire heart. In Jaime's world, there were no half measures when it came to falling in love. Just like you couldn't be a 'little bit' pregnant, Jaime couldn't be a 'little bit' in love.

Sansa was it for him.

He stopped into the florists' shop and grabbed the massive bouquet that he'd had made for Sansa. Pleased with the bright blooms, Jaime was whistling by the time he was back in his vehicle.

He passed Sandor's place and gave the big man a wave. Jaime knew that the sheep were due to give birth soon, and he imagined that Sansa would be over there in an instant. She seemed to love the animals on Skene. Jaime saw Buttercup spot his little side by side, and she gave a little trot, but a command from Sandor had her turning back. She was probably angrily bleating at him. Shaking his head at the characters, both animal and people that were on the island, Jaime bumped across the bridge to see Sansa standing outside the cottage hanging bed sheets.

Stunned by the picture she presented, the sun turned her hair almost fiery in its light, and the wind picked up the hem of the sundress she was wearing and blew it around her calves.

To overcome even to form words, Jaime just paused, greedily drinking her in, the picture she made. It was so easy to see a life for them, living simply but fully, loving one another and perhaps, if they were lucky, a child or two. He wanted that future so badly that his chest almost hurt when he exhaled. There were so many steps, so many milestones to go, to get from here, to there, but Jaime thought it possible.

How could anything, even duty, compare to what he felt when he looked at this woman? How could his life be anywhere but by her side?

Jaime didn't know a single thing about gardens, greenhouses, or raising farm animals. But damn if he wouldn't learn, to give that all to Sansa. They could build their dream house, with a huge kitchen where their family and friends could gather. They might be the ones that hosted people at their house, for events and holidays. They would find a way back, to forgiveness, with their friends, and mend those broken bridges. They would be happy and happy together.

Jaime had no idea how long he sat there, watching Sansa complete her simple task, but eventually, she turned and saw him. Her entire face lit, and she waved at him. Chuckling at himself, at how much a romantic fool he was, Jaime started the vehicle again and drove up to the cottage.

"Good morning, my darling," Jaime said, that smile permanently glued to his face.

Sansa gave a little snort. "My darling, is it? Funny how it wasn't my darling when you sat there and watched me hang my wash."

Since he knew she was teasing him, Jaime chuckled and swung her into his arms, kissing her softly. "Ahh, but then I wouldn't have been able to have such an unimpeded view of someone so beautiful."

She rolled her eyes but smiled, and he could tell she was pleased. "Flatterer."

"Always." He darted in for another kiss and tasted the strong coffee she liked on her lips. She melted in his arms, going all soft and pliant as he held her closer. He nuzzled their noses together, loving how she giggled, how happy she sounded.

"I brought you a present," he told her.

"You did?" she said as if she couldn't quite believe it.

Jaime wanted to shower her in gifts, silly things, thoughtful things, extraordinary things for the rest of his life. Her ex-husband had to be one of the most selfish and obtuse men on the planet. Sansa was so starved for someone to pay attention to her – to put her first. Jaime fully planned on being that man.

"I did." He reluctantly let her go to reach into the vehicle to pull out the huge bouquet for her, along with a little plate of the lemon treats.

Her eyes went wide at the flowers and then landed on the lemon tarts. She licked her lips, and Jaime had to hold back the groan that threatened to let loose from his own throat.

"But it's not lemon day," she said, obviously confused.

Jaime leaned in, kissing her neck, before he whispered, "Ahhh darling, I have my wicked ways."

The little moan sent heat through Jaime's blood, and he had her back in his arms, unable to stop kissing her. When they were both breathless, Jaime tried to gather his thoughts.

Puffins.

Picnic.

Ruins.

Sleepover.

It was his turn to woo! He needed to do this properly. Putting only a little space between them, he tried to get the morning back on track instead of hauling Sansa inside the cottage and spending the day worshiping her.

"It's a bit chilly today. As much as I appreciate the dress you've chosen, you might want to put on some pants," he told her. He added a pout because it was a shame for her to cover herself up, but he also knew it would be even windier on the cliffs.

"I'll do that. You can come and see the basket I've packed for our picnic," she said, holding his hand. Jaime snatched his overnight bag from the back of the truck and followed her inside, pleased when she didn't say anything. That was until he was inside the house, and she turned back.

There was an adorable little blush on her cheeks as her eyes darted between him and the bag.

"Well, yes, if you just give me that, I'll put it in the bedroom, and go and change."

She went to tug it from his hands, but he used that opportunity to pull her closer.

"Sansa, love, I don't want to pressure nor presume anything."

It must have been the right thing to say, for she relaxed.

"I know that. And truthfully? I want you, Jaime."

Instantly desire thundered through Jaime. Gods, he had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Sansa. The need was so significant in him for everything she was willing to offer.

"Sansa," he groaned, watching as she seemed to like this power she had over him.

A quick kiss and then she had his bag in her hands as she darted up the stairs.

He watched her go, and grinned when she called over her shoulder, "Quit eyeing up my ass Jaime."

"But, it's a great ass darling."

Her laughter floated down from the loft as Jaime adjusted himself and went into the kitchen. He saw the basket waiting, and added some of the food he'd picked up, including a bottle of wine. The other bottles he put into the fridge, knowing they'd be back here later. He was so excited not to have to leave this cottage; it felt like home.

When Sansa came back down, she had on some cargo pants, a black sweater, and bright yellow Hunter boots. Her hair was back in a long tail down her back, and her sunglasses and camera were in her hand.

"That's an impressive piece of equipment," he said, raising his eyebrows at the DSLR Nikon.

"It is. When I had Ben, I knew that I wanted to have the best photos of him, so I took a few courses."

There was a shadow there, some sadness, and Jaime opened his arms.

"I bet Ben would love the puffins," Jaime said as she snuggled into him.

"Oh gods, he would. He'd get such a kick out of them."

Jaime hummed a bit and let her have a little cry. Jaime understood that this was just part of life with Sansa, a part that he was honoured that she shared with him.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I am. Thank you," she said to him.

Jaime took her chin in his hand, waiting until their eyes met.

"Sansa, you never have to thank me. I love you – all of you."

She gave a watery smile. "Sometimes it sucks that I can be happy and sad at the same time."

Jaime cocked his head, nodding. "Yes, but that's the price of loving with our entire heart, isn't it?" his thumbs brushed her cheeks.

"It is. I never thought that I'd ever find someone who just got that. No offence, but I never thought I'd find a man that got all these mixed-up feelings I have," Sansa told him, almost in wonderment.

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows. "There are no men like me, babe."

She groaned and swatted at him, and Jaime knew she was back. He loved how she was allowing herself to feel all these emotions when it came to Ben. It was so healthy that she had this safe space to lean into those feelings truly, and he was humbled to be part of it.

It took them a few minutes to pack the vehicle before they were off. Sansa had that impressive camera clicking away, and Jaime knew she'd taken a few pictures of him. He was curious if they would show how relaxed and happy he was. That was the overarching emotion he felt when he was with Sansa – peace. It didn't matter what they were doing, whether they were out on Skene somewhere, or at the cottage, there was a contentment that Jaime had never felt before.

As they got closer to the cliffs, Jaime could see a few vehicles there, but nothing like the upcoming months would see when tourists flocked here.

"Oh, this is so exciting," Sansa said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Thank you so much for thinking of me."

Jaime had done an excellent job at not comparing Sansa to Cersei – but with that simple statement, it was impossible not to. The fights with Cersei, when they had been dating, had always been about more.

She wanted to attend all the parties; to be seen. She wanted Jaime to use his name, his family connections and his money to move them up the social ladder. None of that had mattered to Jaime in the least.

Now here was Sansa, happy to see puffins, visit the ruins, play board games and stay home. Was it any wonder he loved this woman so much? They were so similar in all the ways that counted.

"I couldn't imagine sharing this with anyone else," he told her truthfully.

"Are they as awesome as I think?" she said, eyes bright.

Jaime chuckled. "Yeah, they're pretty neat."

Then because she was focused on him, Jaime shared what he'd learned. It felt nice that Sansa, even with her advanced degrees, always thought what he had to say was worthwhile.

"It's the males that build the nests. They pick one mate, and many will come back to the same nest, year after year."

"And the pufflings?" she asked.

"Adorable. Both parents will help incubate the egg and then stay and feed them."

"I love that," she said softly, and Jaime wondered if she was thinking of her ex-husband. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, then cleared his throat.

"I think that's how it's supposed to be. Two parents, working together, to do everything they can to raise their baby," he said, hoping she wouldn’t think him weak for saying something like that.

Her gaze was focused on the horizon, and there was silence in the vehicle, and Jaime worried he'd overstepped.

"It is supposed to be like that."

They drove close to the cliff edge, and Jaime hoped he hadn't ruined things by bringing up his observations on children. He knew it could be a thorny topic.

"Jaime," she said.

He turned to her to give her his full attention.

“Please don't worry about upsetting me. I love that you speak what's on your mind. I love that you feel things so deeply."

Touched, he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.

"My brave, strong, Sansa."

She blushed a bit but kissed him back.

"And for what it's worth, you'll make a wonderful father one day."

She slipped out of the vehicle, leaving Jaime wondering if she meant that he'd made a father with HER, or just in general. But he’d leave it for now. It was a crumb and one he’d willingly take.

She was by the cliffs when he finally caught up to her and stood beside her, seeing the wonder in her eyes. Overnight the puffins had returned to populate the seaside cliffs.

"Oh, wow," she said, the entire landscape bright and colourful.

Then one of the bird's dove, and she let out a peel of happy laugher, turning towards him, the smile huge across her face.

"Jaime, this is …. Incredible," she said.

He was torn between watching her and watching the puffins, dividing his time between the two of them. She took hundreds of pictures. After a few hours, she finally gave a happy sigh.

"This was magical," she said, thanking him again.

"Want to go to new ruins or the ones we are at before?"

"Oh, new ones," she said.

Jaime nodded, thinking about which ones she might like.

"I think there is one that you will really like," he said, turning the vehicle inland. "These have some crumbling half buildings that are amongst the ruins."

She grinned and nodded.

"Old Aemon told me about that."

They chatted as Jaime drove, and while the sun was still there, he noted the clouds that were rolling in. They might not get the picture-perfect picnic that they had hoped for, but they probably had a little time.

He loved watching her amongst the ruins. It was the historian/anthropologist in her, as she tried to imagine the lives that were lived here thousands of years ago.

"As much as they were different from us, we shared so many things. They loved. They fought. They died. They mourned," she said, running a hand over the ancient stones, her voice respectful and filled with awe.

He loved how deeply she felt things. Perhaps that was buried under the pain and the grief, but it was there. She had such depths and watching her forge herself into something new; it was incredible. They lost themselves in the ruins, even as the clouds rolled in.

The first crack of thunder, had them turning to each other, realizing that they'd stayed too long.

Big fat drops of rain followed as the heavens open, and the downpour began in earnest. Sansa shrieked as Jaime laughed, both of them soaked through by the time they flung themselves into the vehicle.

"Oh my god," she said, shaking herself, shivering a bit.

"Home?" he asked.

"Yes, please!" she said.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to the picnic," he said, real regret in his voice.

Sansa gave him an enigmatic little smile.

"We can still picnic, Jaime."

Wondering what she had in mind, they slowly made their way back to the cottage as the rain kept pounding down, followed by thunder and lightning. The roads were getting muddier by the second, and Jaime realized that this storm might actually do some damage.

"It appears we are destined for storms," Sansa said, dryly.

He gave a dark little laugh.

"When we get home, I'll need to call Pod and check-in," he said.

It was part of being a police officer; you were never really 'off' duty. He braced for her anger that their date day had been interrupted, but it never came. Instead, there was understanding and compassion.

"I understand. And if you have to head to the station, then we'll figure it out."

The little heater in the vehicle was hardly sufficient, so as soon as they were back at the cottage, Jaime immediately went to light the peat fire, while Sansa hauled in the picnic basket and blankets and set her camera down. Once the fire was going, Jaime glanced outside and saw the torrential downpour that was still coming down. He phoned Pod, who was thankfully at the station.

"We've covered Jaime. No tourists yet, and most people will be fine if they lose power. Brienne and I are going to switch off, and we'll be in touch if we need help."

Reassured and knowing that he could trust Pod, Jaime hung up. He turned to see Sansa leaning against the doorway, an arch to her elegant eyebrow.

"Things good?" she asked, a bit of worry in her voice.

Jaimee nodded. "Yeah, they're fine. Pod and Brienne have things under control, and I trust they will call if they need me."

Thankfully, she just nodded. "I umm, I put your stuff upstairs. So if you wanted to change …"

At that moment, the wind howled, picking up in intensity, and the lights flickered. They looked up and then at each other and grinned.

"I'll go make sure the generator is fuelled up, just in case we lose power. And then yeah, I think I'll change."

Jaime was whistling to himself as he took care of the outside tasks, the rain lashing so hard it felt like stinging pellets on his cheek. Truthfully, he was thankful he was here with Sansa. She was an independent woman capable of taking care of herself, but there was an old fashioned part of Jaime that loved doing these blue chores; loved taking care of his woman.

He stepped back into the warm cottage and smelled the coffee. Inhaling deeply and excited about the uninterrupted time he'd now have with the woman he loved, he dutifully hung his rain gear and went to find her.

She was in the living room, and the picture she made stopped Jaime in his tracks. She'd spread a few blankets on the floor, after pushing the table off to one side. She'd lit candles, and the peat fire filled the room with a smoky smell that Jaime associated with Skene.

There were pillows and the picnic basket, and she'd neatly arranged everything, including herself, as she was sitting there waiting for him. She had on those stretchy black yoga pants that did wonders for her legs and an oversized sweater, her hair up in a messy bun.

She sipped her coffee and grinned at him.

"Go and change," was all she said. Rooted the spot for a second, Jaime finally got his wits about him and rushed upstairs to do that. He barely glanced at her private space, knowing that he'd be with her in that big bed tonight. Maybe not sex …. But he'd at least get to hold her.

He pulled on black lounge pants and a fresh t-shirt and then towel-dried his hair, ensuring he hung the towel back up. Jaime might have been a bachelor most of his life, but he wasn't a slob. Then he raced back downstairs, just in time to see Sansa sneak a bite of a lemon danish.

Grinning, Jaime slowed his pace, loving how her eyes met his.

She looked adorably guilty as she moaned around the treat, and Jaime's cock throbbed. Gods, he wanted her. Today, tomorrow, forever.

"Starting without me?" he said, tsk' ing lightly and shaking his head at her. Still, the grin was there.

Sansa shrugged and ate the rest, and then licked her lips.

"Sansa," he groaned. Her eyes trailed down his body, and the loose pants couldn't conceal just how very turned on Jaime was.

"Yummy," she said, reaching for him. Jaime had no idea if she was talking about the lemon pastry she'd just eaten or him. When her hands reached to hem of his pants and tugged him down to the blanket beside her, Jaime figured she might be talking about both.

He sunk to his knees and carded his hands through her hair, bringing her lips to his. Up on their knees, Jaime slanted his face so that he could kiss her to his heart's content.

There was such a lovely tension between them, a palpable hum of want, need, desire, but Jaime was in no rush. Wooing Sansa included this. Taking his time. Learning every sigh, every moan, every secret spot she liked to be touched.

He gentled the kiss, even as she pressed closer to him, winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself to him, so he felt her breasts against his chest. Even through the sweater, he swore he felt her nipples hardened. And still, Jaime kept his lips on hers, his hands in her hair. He ached to touch her, but he also wanted Sansa as out of her mind for him as he was for her. He swiped his tongue through her mouth that opened, using all the skill he had to ramp up the heat between them, feasting on her.

Lemons, coffee and something that was just Sansa.

"Jaime," she moaned, all but rubbing herself on him, as he kept kissing her like he was a man starved.

He grinned and then turned things playful, nipped at her, pressing little kisses to her eyelids, her cheeks, along her jawline and then down her neck, sucking a bit harder as he pulled back the sweater to expose her flesh. She moaned, and he held her, anchoring her to him. Jaime rocked back on his legs so that she could almost sit on him and felt her warm core through those yoga pants rub on his leg.

Encouraged by the fact that she was seeking this out, Jaime kept up his ministrations, tugging, kissing, nipping, and soothing until he felt Sansa grind herself on him. He looked in her eyes, glazed with lust.

"My Sansa," he said, in awe of her.

She groaned and writhed, and Jaime finally put his hands on that magnificent ass of hers, encouraging her to thrust against him. Somehow he knew she wouldn't need his help in finding her release. Her eyes crashed into his as she clutched at him.

"Jaime," she said, wonder in her voice. Her nails were digging into his shoulders while her lower body rocked. Jaime could only stare at her, love and passion and desire all mixing together.

"That's it, darling, ride me," he whispered into her ear.

She moaned, long and low as Jaime's hands dug into the flesh of her ass and held her to his thigh that she was writhing on. It was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen, and there was no way Jaime wanted her to stop.

"Sansa, my love, let go. Let me see you finish," he said, sucking on a sensitive spot on her neck that had her keen out on high pitched wail.

She tensed, and Jaime felt her nails bite into his flesh and then she shattered around him as he held her, his lips on hers as she rode out her pleasure. She all but collapsed into his arms, shuddering and panting as Jaime's arms tightened around her. He licked at the sweat on her neck and moved his hands up, so he stroked her back.

"Gorgeous," he murmured to her.

She gave a muffled laugh, her face buried in his chest. He knew she'd be red.

"Oh my god, I just got myself off on your leg, dry humping you," she said.

Jaime chuckled. "It was amazing. I'm humbled."

Finally, she met his look and yeah, she was red, but he could also she was proud of herself.

"I've never done anything like that," she told him. Too stunned to say anything right away, and wondering what kind of jackass her ex was, she continued speaking. "I've never felt that need before. Never wanted anyone as I want you."

There was a massive part of Jaime that wanted to scoop her up into his arms and race upstairs to that big bed he'd seen a few minutes ago when he'd been changing. But he also sensed that it was too soon.

Sansa, and even he, needed the romance. The buildup. The sweetness and the heat. He could wait to explore more because Sansa was the only woman he was planning on sleeping with for the rest of his life. This wasn't a race, and he wasn't some dickhead twenty-year-old who just needed to get off.

This was the woman he loved. The woman he wanted a future with. So Jaime cuddled her against his chest and rubbed her back.

"It was the hottest thing I've ever seen," he told him, pressing kisses to her forehead.

"Really?" She looked doubtful.

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh yeah, baby."

She squirmed a bit and bumped up against his rock hard dick. "But you're…" she blushed again, and Jaime's heart did a slow lazy somersault. Gods, he loved her.

"Hard as a rock and wanting to make love to you desperately," he said, finishing her sentence. He flashed a grin and kissed her softly, loving how she melted in his arms. "But, I'm also going to feed you and enjoy this wonderful picnic you've made us."

"Are you sure?" she said, brow crinkling.

Jaime laughed softly. "Sansa, I am very sure. I will not die from having a hard dick."

She laughed a bit and then cuddled closer. "I feel wonderful. It's been a very long time."

Manly pride roared through Jaime. This woman undid him with her trust and love and faith that she had in him.

"I love you," he said, voice choked up.

She turned, cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"And I love you."

Their eyes held.

"Now feed me, Jaime," she demanded, a saucy little smile on her face.

"With pleasure," he purred back, knowing that this afternoon and evening would be one of the best of his entire life.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Will their date continue, or will Jaime get called away?
> 
> And more reconciliations.


	22. Sansa makes a move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of their date ... night

* * *

_ Later Afternoon of Date Day – Sansa _

Sansa thought that she should perhaps feel somewhat embarrassed at how she'd literally gotten herself off on Jaime, grinding against him, using him for her own pleasure, while leaving him hard.

But shockingly enough, she did not. Because she had plans for Jaime Lannister. Lovely, sexy plans. 

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed, so languid, so damn freaking good. And it was all because of the beautiful man that she was in love with.

Wholly, completely, entirely in love with. The man she’d taken a chance on. And what a man he’d turned out to be.

She was sipping wine, admiring Jaime's ass as he tended to the fire, and contemplating what lemon dessert she was going to indulge in next.

After having her first non-solo orgasm for the first time in years, she had decided she was going just to indulge tonight.

Dessert.

Kisses.

Wine.

And all with the man she loved.

Hopefully, there were more orgasms – mutual ones this time, with Jaime and her in her bed, together. Sansa had enough of being alone in this lifetime. She was ready for more, for everything a relationship entailed. She was ready to be brave and to show Jaime that she wanted everything.

Jaime finished with the peat, smiling at her as he rose, brushing hands against the black lounge pants he'd changed into.

It was shocking how comforting that smell had become, living here on Skene.

As he came back to sit beside her, he grabbed his own glass of wine as he brushed his lips across hers.

"I like seeing you like this," he murmured, nuzzling at her.

She felt his lips everywhere, feather-like touches she was sure were designed to drive her mad with lust. It was working, as she felt his warm breath caress her. Somehow, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.

"You do?" she said, smirking a bit. "I like being like this."

The crazy part was, it was true. It had been so damn long since the part of Sansa that was a woman, with needs and desires, had been in the driver's seat. And oh boy, was she making up for lost time. She hoped Jaime could keep up!

Jaime gave a deep, rich laugh that had his entire body shaking as he sipped his wine.

"I'm glad," he responded, wiggling his eyebrows.

Then, as if they read each other's minds, they put the wine down and focused on each other.

Sansa laughed and grabbed his soft t-shirt, tugging him closer.

His eyes darkened a bit, and that desire that he'd banked a few moments ago, flared to life. Gods, she'd never felt like this with Harry. She was so sure with Jaime, so confident that even with her inexperience that he loved her and accepted all parts of her.

How long had it been since she'd put herself first? How long had it been since she had been a woman first, put her needs up front and center, before being a wife, a mother, a friend, a daughter?

Years. It had been years. And she was living for this side of her that was staking it’s claim. Sansa the woman was here and ready to be heard!

Here on Skene, Sansa felt like she could breathe; that she was able to take the time to discover the woman she was becoming after her life had veered so far off-course.

There was no pressure from Jaime, to have all the answers, to be happy all the time.

She was just allowed to be … Sansa.

Not that she knew exactly who this new Sansa was, but she was slowly figuring it out.

And right by her side was a man she'd fallen in love with. A good man. A caring man. A man that was so sexy and so amazing that Sansa wanted more with him.

Now she brushed her lips against Jaime's, taking her time to explore his mouth, lips, and tongue. She reached a hand up to stroke at his whiskers, loving the short beard.

"Hmm," she murmured against his mouth, slanting to take the kiss deeper. She loved it when his hand came up to cup her neck, holding her to him.

"Sansa," he whispered back.

Her heart was thumping wildly again, and that desire which had been sated roared to life. She moaned and pressed closer to him, sitting on his lap again. She loved kissing Jaime. He was so responsive and demanding, banking that fire higher and higher. He put his entire body into it, as if there was nowhere else, he'd rather be than right here, their lips tangling again and again.

When they finally came up for air, she sucked in a deep breath and then smiled at him.

"Wow."

"I'll say," he responded.

Sansa grinned, reaching up to play with his hair.

She had to admit it felt incredible to have a man like Jaime want her so much, love her so much. He was so handsome he stole her breath, so effortlessly sexy and sure of himself, that he chased all her doubts away.

She was just about to start something … more, when her stomach rumbled, and hunger of a different sort made itself known.

Jaime laughed and shook his head.

"Time to feed you."

Grinning slightly sheepishly, she reluctantly crawled off Jaime's lap and settled beside him as Jaime dug through the picnic basket, pulling out the few things she'd made, along with grapes, strawberries, crackers and cheese.

"Gimme quiche!" she said, making grabby hands at him.

He grinned at her and then insisted on feeding her. Sansa never realized just how insanely sensual it was to eat from another person's hand until she was nibbling on Jaime's fingers, and he was making pained little groans. He was also not a small man, by the looks of the redwood he was sporting in his black lounge pants.

"Killing me here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blazing as she sucked down another strawberry from him.

"Good," she replied, feeling bold and daring.

Suddenly, food was the last thing on her mind. Sansa knew precisely what she wanted and when. Right freaking now!

With a sensuality she had no idea she possessed, she grabbed Jaime's hand and tugged him to his feet.

"Sansa?" he asked.

Her smile was sure. Certain. Confident. She wanted Jaime in every way a woman wanted a man.

"Come," was all she said, pleased when he nodded, desire and love a potent mixture in his eyes.

They were upstairs within minutes, working silently but together to light a dozen candles she had scattered around the room. She saw Jaime's bag, now open with a few clothes poking out, his pants hanging over a rack in her bathroom to dry.

Suddenly, she wanted more. She vowed to clean out a drawer for him tomorrow. It was silly how he had things at that sad little apartment in town when he was here all the time. They were in love. And Sansa knew more than anyone how life could change in a second. She was happy, and she was going to grab that happiness with both hands. 

Sansa set down her lighter and waited for Jaime to finish his task, loving how he deferred to her in the bedroom.

There would be no pressure – not even now, with the big bed just there, waiting for them.

"Sansa, we don't have to do …"

She kissed him, then, pressing her breasts that were sensitive and needy against his muscular chest. There was no hesitation as Jaime's arms encircled her, holding her close to him.

She was so safe, so love, so desired by this man, that there was no room for fear.

"I love you, Jaime Lannister. I love you, and I trust you. And oh god, I want you. I want all of you," she finally told him, breathing hard but smiling big. It was so freeing just to feel.

"Oh my love, I want you as well. So very much," Jaime responded.

His hips moved slightly, and she felt his impressive cock there, hard and ready for her.

Suddenly, Sansa had to see Jaime, to touch him. There were far too many clothes between them, even with them both in loungewear, and when she pulled his soft t-shirt over his head, she let out a tiny gasp.

"Holy moly," she whispered, her hands greedily touching the well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, loving the light scattering of blond hair over the well-defined eight pack.

Jaime Lannister was freaking built. And he was all hers.

As she touched him, everywhere, she couldn't help but kiss and suck, to nip at him. There was such a fierce need insider her, unlike anything she'd ever felt. Caught up in her explorations, she barely realized how low she'd gotten when suddenly Jaime's hands reached out to still hers.

Startled, she glanced at his face and saw the barely controlled desire there.

"Sansa, love, I am trying my very best not to ravish you. But I'm hanging on by a thread, darling, and you're not helping," he ground out.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sansa reached out and pulled off her top and then shimmied out of her yoga pants, so she was in a bra and panties.

Jaime's nostrils flared, and his mouth tightened.

"Ravish me," she said, having no idea where this bold woman was coming from but loving it. There would be time for gentle and drawn-out lovemaking.

But now? Now Sansa wanted to be taken. She trusted Jaime – with everything. Including her pleasure.

"Are you sure?" he said, cupping her neck, drawing her closer. She could see how hard he was breathing, how much he wanted her and yet how much he wanted her to be sure. She had no worries that he found her lacking in any way.

She lifted a leg and rubbed herself against him, then leaned in and bit him – not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that he groaned, half in pain, half in pure lust.

"So very, very sure. Love me, Jaime. Show me how much you want me," she told him.

Sansa barely had time to react before she was lifted off her feet and deposited in the center of the bed; Jaime ranged above her like some warrior from a bygone time. The man's eyes were so deep, so filled with all the things he felt for her – and it was just there.

No hiding. No games. No holding back.

Jaime wanted all of her. And she wanted all of him.

"My Sansa," he all but purred, his hands seemingly everywhere, cupping her and stroking.

Her nipples ached, and as if he knew, his fingers were there, plucking at their sensitive tips, rolling them in between his fingers, before his mouth joined in the fun, sucking the lace and taunt bud into his mouth.

Sansa heard the moan, could hardly believe it was coming from her. But it seemed to encourage Jaime, so she gave in to what he was making her feel.

No secrets.

Nothing held back.

This was her, claiming her future. Claiming the man she loved.

She carded her hands through his longish hair, playing with it, tugging at him, as he slipped the bra off, those expert fingers making short work of it.

Sansa thanked the gods that she'd always been small chested. Her boobs hadn't been ravaged by breastfeeding Ben and were one of her best features, if somewhat smallish. Still, the way Jaime was gazing at them, almost stunned, she thought that maybe size didn't matter so much to him.

"Fucking gorgeous," he muttered before lowering his head to play some more.

Sansa had never realized what it meant to have someone worship her.

Until Jaime.

The man was single-minded, it seemed like, in learning every secret her body had to share, and when his hands were starting caressing her slim stomach, followed by his lips, she had a brief moment where she tensed.

Even though she was slimmer now than she'd ever been, she still had a few tell-tale silverly scars from carrying Ben. Sansa loved them. They were proof of her son. But how would Jaime react?

His lips were there, featherlight, licking and kissing them, tracing them with his tongue.

"My warrior goddess," he crooned, and even though she was so turned on, she could smell her own desire, the tears pricked her eyes.

"Jaime," she whispered, and his eyes flashed up to hers. He laid a gentle hand on her stomach.

"You're a mother, Sansa. And no one can ever take that from you," he said, making this moment perfect.

"Do you want children? One day?" she asked, suddenly needing to know. They'd sort of danced around it, but she loved this man. He was her everything. He was her future.

Jaime stilled and locked eyes with her.

"Sansa, you are enough. You are my world. But if we are blessed, if it is right, for us, for _both_ of us, then yes. I'd love to have a child with you. Or children. Whatever we want.”

Sansa couldn't help the sob that escaped, and she saw how Jaime misinterpreted her tears. He thought she meant she didn’t want more children. But nothing could be further from the truth. With anyone else, she couldn’t even imagine it. But with Jaime? It was so easy to see that future – someday.

Scrambling now, she flung herself into his arms and held him close, so he could truly hear her.

"God, Jaime, I want that as well. I can't promise you when, but someday," she cried, kissing him hard.

He was shaking, she realized, and she knew that all the fear that came with having another child would be worth it for this man.

“You do?”

“Yes, Jaime. With you, I can see that future for us.”

“Sansa,” he said, voice reverent as he gazed at her.

She cupped his face and kissed him, soft and gentle.

"My Jaime, my love," she crooned against his lips. "You made me believe in myself again. You gave me back so much, Jaime."

His hands were on her back as he kissed her everywhere he could.

"God, Sansa, I love you. I want a lifetime with you, darling."

Pleased she hadn't ruined the night, she rocked against him, her tiny thong the only thing between her wet entrance and his hard cock. She giggled as she squirmed, and Jaime cupped her ass.

"Naughty girl," he purred, making her moan. "And quit rushing me. I haven't had my dessert."

He winked at her and turned her stomach to mush before gently laying her down, and tugging the tiny panties away and then laying his hands on her thighs, which he pushed apart. She was bare to this man, stripped down to her rawest form, and yet, Sansa had never felt so loved and treasured.

She had also never experienced a man that seemed to enjoy …. being down there! Harry had done it once. Once in all their dating and married life. He'd claimed most men didn't like it and that it wasn't something that turned him on. Of course, he'd expected her to go down on him. He also hadn't been the most creative in bed. Somehow, Sansa knew instantly that creatively wouldn't be an issue with Jaime.

"Are you sure?" she asked, sounding breathless. She'd heard about this – from Ros and Marg, and they waxed poetic about how amazing it felt when a man went down on a woman.

Jaime's head shot up, and he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Am I sure? Gods, Sansa, I've been fucking dreaming about this for months. Now hush, love, and let me feast."

The blush stole over her body, making her feel so alive and naughty and just so freaking good. She closed her eyes at first, unable to watch, thinking it far too intimate. But as Jaime parted her swollen folds and swiped his tongue through her cream, licking and lapping at her, she couldn't help it. Her eyes flew open, and his name came out in a pant.

"Jaime, oh god, what are you doing?" she asked as she dug her hands into his hair.

"Loving you, baby. Let go. Just feel, Sansa. Feel how much I love you," he told her.

With that, she let herself go, arching and moaning, begging and writhing, just wanting more. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Jaime as she watched him do what he said he would – love her. For there was no mistaking that this was what this was.

Jaime was loving her!

She was wanton as she ground herself against Jaime's face, uncaring how wet she was and what she must look like. All she could do was feel and give herself over to what Jaime was doing.

When he finally took pity on her, she was near incoherent with desire as he zeroed in on her clit, laving it, sinking his fingers inside her. The combination was too much, and the orgasm hit her like a tsunami, coming over her in waves, making her scream and tense.

Sansa was gasping when Jaime, smug little smirk on her face, kissed his way back up her body and settled his weight on top of her.

She'd had two incredible orgasms, but there was still need there. She wanted Jaime inside her – she wanted this man she loved with her entire heart to make love with her.

"Hi," he said, kissing her lips softly. "Still with me?"

"That was amazing," she told him truthfully.

Jaime grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Be prepared. I love what you taste like. You’re addictive.”

The lust roared through her. Oh. My. God. This man!

"But, I want more," she said, canting her hips, feeling his hard cock at her soaked entrance.

Sansa saw his eyes go wide as if he thought she might be done and grinned. Moving quickly, she flipped them, so she was above and in control.

"Sansa?"

"You've had your fun, Jaime. Now it's my turn."

The look of wonder on Jaime's face made Sansa bold as she traced those muscles on his chest and abdomen. He was built, no doubt, but not huge, and she liked what she saw. Sansa leaned down and pressed kissed to his skin, loving the slight musk there, working her way lower. Excitement thrummed, and she couldn't wait to do this for him.

When she finally got to this cock, it was so hard, weeping and red. Sansa palmed it, rolling the moisture from the tip down his length, giving her some lubrication, to stroke him, watching his eyes almost roll back in his head.

Sansa grinned. This was awesome! Jaime was so free, so open and expressive with what he liked, and when she finally took him in her mouth, he muttered curse words mixed with praises.

"Fuck, baby, your mouth.”

“God, that’s so good."

Sansa sucked harder.

"Christ, woman, you're amazing. Fuck, baby, I love you. Love your mouth."

She licked him, root to tip, and he cursed her name again and again until lost in her world of sucking him off, she suddenly found herself beneath him, all six foot three inches of hard male body ranged over hers. Jaime was nudging between her legs.

"Birth control?" he asked, and Sansa nodded, parting her legs. Giving Jaime a blow job had renewed her own desire, and now she wanted him inside her.

"Yes. I'm clean."

"Me too. And I want nothing between us, but if you'd feel better with a con…" Jaime didn't have a chance to finish that sentence as she canted her hips, drawing him inside.

He gave a little nod, kissed her and then surged inside, opening her up to accept all of him. Their hands were linked, and Jaime squeezed.

"With me, love?"

"Oh gods, you're so big," she groaned, her body adjusting to his girth.

But as if she'd been made for him, he rolled his hips gently, and Sansa’s body responded. They were so in sync that it was at once as if everything was new and like they'd done this before.

He grinned and then kissed her again, moving towards her neck, sucking there, leaving whiskers marks on her skin.. He pulled out and then thrust back inside, so she had no choice but to accept all of him.

She was surrounded by Jaime, drowning in him, as he moved inside her, making her feel things she didn't know were even possible.

Sansa kept her eyes on Jaime's, not wanting to miss a single thing about their first time together.

"You feel incredible, love. So warm, so wet, so tight," he groaned, and she could see he was barely holding on.

Knowing this was just the beginning of their lives together, Sansa moved with him, meeting his every stroke inside her.

Suddenly needing her hands on him, she unlinked their fingers and cupped his head, pulling him close for a kiss as he sped up. She felt the orgasm building again, this one a slow wave of feeling that would wash over her, unlike the supernova from his mouth and fingers, but no less welcome.

"Jaime, fill me up," she said, seeing his nostrils flare, those green eyes going dark with desire.

"Hold on to me," he managed to grunt as he ground into her, almost slamming himself in and out, pinning her to the bed as she wrapped her legs around him, throwing her head back as sensations bombarded her.

She tightened on him and saw when he tipped over, the sight seared into her brain. He was so gorgeous like this – and all hers. Sansa knew this. This was a Jaime that belonged to just her.

Sweaty and limp, he collapsed on top of her, half rolling them to the side as he nuzzled at her neck and Sansa, blissed out on three orgasms, didn't even move.

"My Sansa," he whispered into her ear, making her smile.

"My Jaime," she said, kissing him back.

Then, content in a way Sansa could never remember being, she cuddled against his chest and let Jaime hold her, knowing that once again, everything between them had changed. And loving every second of it.

* * *

_ Early Evening – Jaime _

They were lying in her bed, naked and sated, twined together, Sansa on his chest as Jaime played with her hair. He'd just had the most incredible sexual experience of his life and was relaxing with the woman he loved, when his phone rang.

Jaime tensed, knowing it could only be Pod or Brienne. The howling wind and dark skies meant that the storm hadn't abated.

What would Sansa think when he had to leave just after the first time made love? Would she be angry? Would she not want to be with a police officer when she realized it meant things like this – having their lives interrupted?

Even though he knew she was nothing like Cerise, he was still nervous until she turned, kissed him softly, cupped his cheek and smiled.

"You should get that, Chief."

It was the sexy little purr on Chief that reassured Jaime. She wasn't angry. She got it.

Thank fuck she got it! He never should have doubted her. This woman knew him!

He grabbed his phone and listened to Pod tell him about a creek that had overflowed, there was a power outage and some residents that were stranded.

Jaime knew he was needed in his official role, but he wouldn't lie and say it was easy to leave Sansa.

When he told her what happened, she just nodded knowingly and then pulled on some yoga pants and a tank top and told him she'd make him a thermos of coffee and a dinner to go, while he showered.

Jaime was in awe of her.

"Sansa, are you sure?"

She turned back to him just as she reached the doorway, a confused look on her face. Jaime could see the evidence of their lovemaking on her pale skin and caveman enough to admit he loved seemed his whisker marks there. She was his!

"Sure? Jaime, you're the Chief, and your people need you. What's there to be unsure about?"

His heartfelt so full he thought it might explode out of his chest. He was moving towards her before he could help himself, kissing her hard as he had her in his arms.

"You are incredible," he told her, meaning it.

She blushed, looking pleased with herself and then shook her head a bit. "I know this is part of you, Jaime. And you're coming home, where you can cuddle me later."

Jaime grinned. "Oh yeah, babe. I'm coming home to cuddle the hell out of you."

She laughed and then pushed him away and towards the shower. "Go and shower, and I'll pack you some food and coffee."

Totally in awe of her, Jaime hurried to do as she ordered, wondering how his life had become so incredible and thanking the day when he came to Skene.

* * *

_ Evening – Sansa _

She watched Jaime drive away, hands cradling a cup of coffee, smiling to herself. She had just had the most incredible date, culminating with the best sex of her entire life.

And the best part was, Jaime was coming back! He loved her, and she loved him, and their lives were just beginning. She had never imagined she'd have a second chance like the one that now before her. And it was all because of the incredible man that Jaime was.

After Jaime was out of sight, she headed back inside to tidy up. Her guy had a serious case of the guilts when it came to doing his job. Which was ridiculous because one of the things Sansa loved about Jaime was his dedication to his profession. She was a modern woman, used to being alone, and it wasn't like this was Jaime's choice to leave. 

Weather and people and just dire circumstances had all contributed to him having to leave. She couldn't begrudge him doing his job. Gods, what type of woman would that make her?

She puttered around her house, cleaning up their picnic, her stomach rumbling. They had nibbled a bit but really hadn't eaten much. Thankfully she'd had some proper leftovers to send with Jaime, who had been utterly delighted with the dinner she'd packed him. For a man that was worth more money than Sansa would ever have, Jaime was shockingly down to earth when it came to these small gestures.

When she had the downstairs cleaned up, her dinner eaten, the food packed away, she added more peat to the fire and left the light on above the stove in the kitchen.

By the time she got upstairs, she had thought she might take a bath but frowned when she came upon Jaime's clothes stuff haphazardly into his overnight bag.

Without even considering her actions, she quickly cleaned out half her dresser and then unpacked his bag, loving that half of it now belonged to him. Hoping he didn't mind, she did the same with his toiletries, lining up his toothbrush, razor, shaving cream and hair gel beside her things.

More pleased than she thought possible, she grabbed her phone.

**Sansa: So I did something. And I hope you're not upset.**

She sent a picture of the drawer with his clothing and the bathroom with all his stuff lined up beside hers.

She bit her lip as she waited for his reply. Had she overstepped? Gone too far? Presumed too much?

**Jaime: My Sansa. Does this mean what I think it does?**

Sansa smiled, and feeling more confident, she responded.

**Sansa: I guess that depends. I believe this is me taking the woo-ing to the next level Jaime.**

Her phone rang, and she heard the slight uncertainty in Jaime's voice.

"Sansa, does this mean what I hope it means?"

She knew she could tell him it was just easier this way and that it was just a drawer and to not make a big deal about it.

But that wasn't the truth. And it wasn't what she wanted.

So she decided to be brave. She decided to put her hopes and dreams out there – to trust Jaime and what they had and what they felt for one another. To trust in what they were building.

She decided to take the leap and stop being afraid.

She decided to choose happiness.

"Jaime, you're here almost every night. We love each other. And … I want you here with me. I want you to come home to me. If that's what you want."

"Oh god, Sansa. I want to come home to you each night as well. Are you sure?"

Sansa grinned. "I'm sure, Jaime. Maybe tomorrow we can pack up more of your stuff. If you'd like."

"I like. I want. Oh wow. Sansa, fuck. I can't wait to come home tonight, darling. I love you so much. This is … wow."

Sansa giggled a bit at how she'd shocked Jaime in a good way. She could tell he loved the cottage and he wanted to be here more. And she wanted him here, with her, each night.

"Ok silly man. Go and be a hero and be safe, and I'll see you later. I love you."

His voice was thick, roughened with emotion. "I love you so much, Sansa. I'll be home as soon as I can get away."

Pleased with her boldness, her bravery, her choice, Sansa decided she'd indulge in a smutty romance novel, a peppermint hot chocolate and a nice warm bath. And then she'd go to bed and wait for Jaime to come home.

Home to her. Home to this little cottage and the life they were building.

Together, on Skene.

* * *

_ Late, late evening – Jaime _

It had been an absolutely miserable night, cold and long, and Jaime was exhausted. Thankfully, the storm had finally died down, and they had all the people of Skene safe and sound and tucked into their beds.

Everyone but Jaime.

Still, it was hard to complain about the drive home when Sansa was waiting for him.

_Home._

With Sansa.

Since she'd called him, Jaime's mind hadn't been able to think about anything else. It was everything he’d ever wanted in his life.

She had cleared out a drawer. Welcomed him into her bed. Told him that one day she wanted another child!

He could hardly believe it. Today had been monumental.

Jaime crested the hill and saw the outside light on at her cottage, and something warm spread throughout his chest.

She'd left a light on for him. No one had ever left a light on for him. As if they were expecting him – as if he were wanted. Just him. Just Jaime.

Pressing the gas a bit harder, he hurried towards the cottage.

Jaime slipped inside and found another light on above the stove, along with a note that there was some food if he wanted in the fridge. Since he'd eaten what she'd packed him, Jaime wasn't hungry, but these gestures touched him deeply. 

She was so incredible – so caring and warm and a natural nurturer.

And the fact that she was all those things even after suffering unimaginable losses just blew Jaime away.

He hurried through the house, locking it up, and then checking the fire. Satisfied they'd be warm for the night, he shut off the lights downstairs and then took the steps two at a time until he got to the loft and paused.

She was tucked in bed, the light on his side of the bed, on.

Jaime dashed away from the tears as he stripped off his wet clothing, dumping them in the hamper, plugging his phone in, before crawling into bed beside her.

Sansa shifted and yawned, eyes popping open.

"Hi, Jaime."

"Hi baby," he said, brushing his lips across hers.

"Everything good?"

"Yeah, love. Everything is perfect."

He turned off the light and then, in wonder, felt Sansa snuggle into his embrace, heart racing.

Jaime Lannister was finally home.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime moves some stuff into the cottage, lambs arrive at Sandor's, Arya and Sansa talk and finally, Jon and Sansa have a heart to heart


	23. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get better on Skene, between the meddlers and Jaime and Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said it WOULD get better. Well, we are there. I love this chapter so much. I love redemption arcs and forgiveness and just knowing where they WERE and where they are now, I adore this chapter!
> 
> As always, for those who have stuck by this story - the ups and downs. Enjoy the goodness that is this chapter!
> 
> PS - I do know that baby goats are called kids. But baby goats are much funner to type! BABY GOATS!

* * *

_ The  _ _Cottage – Sansa _

Sansa was straightening out their bedroom as Jaime lounged in bed, watching her. She was amused by her lion and how happy he looked. Last night, having him come home to her, Sansa knew she'd made the right choice when it came to their future.

More than anyone, she knew nothing in this life was guaranteed. She had come to realize that staying unhappy and alone was not what she wanted. So she’d reached out and grabbed what she wanted with both hands. And that was Jaime Lannister.

Perhaps her and Jaime would hit a rough patch that they couldn't work through.

Maybe he'd want to go back to King's Landing, and she wouldn't want to leave Skene.

Maybe she wouldn't ever get to a stage where she could have another child, and it would be too much for Jaime.

But maybe those things _wouldn't_ happen. And for the first time since she’d heard Ben’s diagnosis, Sansa allowed herself to lean into hope and believe that Jaime was something good in her life.

They loved one another, and they wanted the same things in life. They had such a solid foundation beneath them that Sansa felt that they would weather the storms that came their way. They had both, in their way, been through hell and back. And somehow, they'd found one another.

Sansa had never felt like this with Harry.

Her love for Jaime was both scary and exhilarating, and she found herself riding the high that came with it.

"I like seeing you like this," he said, drawing her attention back to him.

Sansa was wearing one of his button-up shirts; sleeves rolled up. It skimmed the back of her ass and tops of her thighs, and if she moved just right, she knew Jaime caught a glimpse of her assets. Not that she minded.

The man was naked and so sexy she had to hold herself back from pouncing on him. She'd already woken him up and made love to him once today, and the ache between her legs made her very aware of how long it had been since she'd had a regular lover. She couldn't imagine going a single day and not making love with Jaime.

"Like what? Doing chores?" she asked, snorting a bit and rearranging things on their dresser. Their things. All co-mingled and beside one another. His watch. Her bracelet.

Jaime smiled and shook his head. Sansa loved how his blond hair just shone in the morning light, how his green eyes almost appeared to have tiny flecks of gold in them.

"Happy."

Her breath caught as her heart raced. "Oh, Jaime. I am. So happy."

He pushed the sheet back, and then as if his nakedness didn't bother him, strode towards her, drawing her into his embrace. Sansa loved having Jaime's hands on her – it didn't matter where. Stroking her back, cupping her ass, stroking her cheek. Wherever he touched her, she felt so cherished.

"It's not too much, me being here? Because I promise I won't love you less if it is.”

Sansa's heart ached for Jaime. This man was so good. So very different than what she'd initially thought. Her trauma may be more obvious, but he was just as deep. And she knew that what Jaime craved the most, what he wanted, what he needed was love and acceptance, at least as much as she did.

She had no doubts about the monumental steps she'd taken last night.

"Jaime, this is what I want. You, here with me, building a life together. And I know you haven't decided on King's Landing or Skene. Or maybe somewhere else even that we might want to be. That is fine. Right now, we take this day by day, together."

 _She wondered if he had any idea how expressive his eyes were?_ She could see everything Jaime felt and he held nothing back from her. She adored that about him.

He swallowed hard.

"Together."

He kissed her softly, and she felt his hard cock press against her stomach. She could admit to being extraordinarily flattered and pleased that Jaime wanted her so much. She knew her body wasn't perfect, and she wasn't as young as she was when she'd first slept with Harry. So it spoke to her vanity that he was hard, again, after they'd been together a lot in the past few hours.

"Someone's happy to see me," she murmured.

Jaime chuckled softly, those eyebrows wiggling a sexy little smirk on his face.

"He's quite taken with you."

She rolled her eyes at him but also grinned. There was something so wonderful about orgasms. And especially orgasms with the man you loved. And if Sansa was honest with herself – a man that looked like Jaime. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Down big guy. I'm still sore from the two times we've made love."

Somehow Jaime looked both concerned and supremely pleased with himself.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jaime said, now all contrite and worried, though his cock remained half-hard.

Sansa laughed. "I'm not. I'm not fragile, Jaime. It was so worth it. I'm just saying, and he'll have to wait until tonight."

Jaime wiggled his eyebrows. Despite how incredibly handsome and sexy he was, she knew he'd always put her comfort first. This man had such a capacity for empathy and caring for others.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

The vicious storm was long gone, and it was a perfect spring day. The sun was bright, and there was a warmth to the air that Sansa hadn't felt on Skene.

Sansa played with Jaime's hair, liking how he wore it a bit longer than in pictures she'd seen when he'd been in King's Landing.

"Hmm, well, we still have loads of stuff from our picnic. And Sandor texted me already to say that some of the lambs had been born. Plus, there's that little issue of you going and getting your stuff."

Sansa tried not to hold her breath, wondering if Jaime might back out. She'd dumped a hell of a lot on him last night. Deep in her heart, she knew that Jaime wanted a home as much as she did. But in the light of day, things could change – people could change their minds. He was a Lannister. Maybe this little cottage wasn't enough for him.

His grin eased any of her worries as he rubbed his nose against hers.

"Yes. That seems to be the most important task."

Sansa grinned. "Cheeky man."

"I like your cheeks better."

Laughing, he lifted her suddenly, his hands on her ass as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. He carried her to the bathroom.

"We'll shower together, to save water of course, then head into Sandor's and visit Buttercup and the lambs and then we can stop by my place. With two trucks, we can get it all."

Delighted by him, by them, Sansa giddily agreed, excited for this next chapter of her life on Skene to begin.

With Jaime – in her heart, in her life and now, in her little cottage that was perfect for the two of them.

* * *

A few hours later, she was pulling on her boots to go to Sandor's. Their shower hadn't quite turned out to be the water-saving venture that Jaime had promised when the man decided to wash, lick and suck every part of her body. He claimed he needed to soothe the ache he'd caused, and when he buried his face between her legs, she had been helpless to say no.

It was like an overdose of sensation for a woman that had been living in a very dry desert for the past few years. Even more telling, she had never come like that when she'd been with Harry. In one night, Jaime had already proven to be a far better lover than her ex-husband.

And it was clear he loved being with her – that it was more than just a physical release. The man practically oozed sex appeal, but when they were together, he was so focused on her and learning her little cues that she felt absolutely worshiped.

Now she was packing some food to share their picnic with Sandor since it was approaching lunchtime. She was excited to see the baby animals. She brought her camera, thinking it might be fun to print some of the pictures and do an activity with the children's group at the library, where they could match the baby animals with the adult ones.

"That's an excited look," Jaime commented.

She told him her idea, and he thought it was a good one.

"Maybe you can even have a show and tell day. Could you imagine Lyanna with a baby goat?"

Jaime snorted as he popped grapes in his mouth.

Sansa laughed, imagining the bossy little girl 'directing' a show and tell with animals.

"She'd take it over."

They packed her little truck, and then Jaime followed her to Sandor's place. Things between Jaime and Sandor weren't entirely back to where they'd been, pre-meddling, but out of everyone, Sandor was the easiest to forgive. There was something about the big man that made him seem vulnerable. Both Jaime and Sansa knew he understood how fucked up it had been that he'd gotten involved in lying to them, and they trusted he wouldn't do it again.

He was being followed around the chicken pen, talking to his 'ladies.' Sansa adored the image he presented and snapped a few pictures in quick succession. She loved this place so much. She loved these people so much. Deep in her heart, she knew this was home for her.

Then the door to Sandor's farmhouse opened, and Jeyne stepped out, holding two cups of coffee. She paused when she saw Sansa and Jaime and blushed red, as it was clear she'd spent the night here. She was wearing one of Sandor's enormous shirts.

Jaime leaned down and whispered in Sansa's ear, "Don't meddle darling."

She swatted him and waved to her friend, who blushed but appeared happy to see them.

Inside, Sansa was doing a little happy dance for the two of them, but in deference to the 'no meddling' policy, she said nothing, pretending like it was perfectly normal for Jeyne to come out of Sandor's house at noon on a Sunday. Wearing his clothing!

Before Sansa could say anything, an excited bleat altered her to the fact that Buttercup had found Jaime. The force with which she careened into Jaime had Sansa shaking her head. If they did stay on Skene, she wanted enough space to have animals. Lots of them.

"Hey LB, lion, over here," Sandor said, taking a cup of coffee from Jeyne and delighting Sansa when he pulled her close and brushed his lips across the top of her head.

Sansa let out a happy little squeal, which had Jaime giving her 'the look’.

"I am not meddling! They are right there – all open and non-secretive!" she huffed.

Jeyne, who'd finally relaxed, laughed. "Yeah, I guess the cat is out of the bag. We're kind of an item."

Hand in hand, they walked towards Sandor's barn, where Sansa knew he kept the sheep that were about to give birth. She was so excited to see the lambs and asked Jeyne how many had been born.

"Six at last count. Sandor has a few more that are due to give birth any day now. He's added a few more each year, different types and breeds so that the wool I get now is a blend of the best kind."

Sansa glanced at Sandor, who looked slightly abashed, as he opened the barn doors. "Just wanted to give you what you needed. You're the one with the skills."

Jeyne beamed at him. "Well, I think it kind of goes together. You have the sheep; I have the knitting skills."

Sansa thought the two of them utterly adorable as she stepped into the barn and her soft bleats and little grunts. Buttercup had been left outside, much to her chagrin, and Jaime slipped his hand into Sansa.

Sandor led her to one of the females, where a little white lamb that looked so soft and fluffy was standing there, nursing. It's little ears looked like elf ears and were pink in the middle, and Sansa's breath caught at the scene. She pressed closer to Jaime, who was chuckling, the tension between the two men suddenly gone.

"Oh, they are precious," Sansa said quietly, slightly in awe of them. She knew it was a mothering instinct to be drawn to something new and vulnerable and so adorable. She gazed at them adoringly, moving from stall to stall, being sure to visit them all.

"Didn't lose one mother, and no one needs to be bottle-fed. Not yet. Thank fuck," Sandor said.

Sansa's eyes shot to his. "Well, if that happens, you let us know, and we'll help."

"We'll?" Sandor asked his one eyebrow arching.

Sansa felt her cheeks heat a bit but didn't shy away.

"Yes, Jaime's moving in with me."

Sandor looked at Jaime, who held the big man's gaze. Nothing was said, but Sandor grunted, and Jaime nodded and then Sandor was asking if Jaime wanted a beer and Sansa and Jeyne found themselves setting up a picnic on the beautiful shaded deck Sandor had built off the back of his house. They had an unimpeded view of the ocean in the distance, the rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

It was the perfect spring day as the foursome spent hours chatting about life on Skene, their jobs, their friends and their lives. Sansa, comfortable now with Sandor and Jeyne, brought Ben up a few times, especially when it came to farm animals. She took out her phone and showed Jeyne some pictures of him, and Jeyne made all the appropriate noises until suddenly, Jeyne pushed back her chair and rushed inside the house.

Sandor and Jaime exchanged a worried look, but Sansa knew what this was about.

To her astonishment, Jeyne's reaction didn't make her upset.

"I'll go," she told Jaime and rose to find her friend.

Jeyne was wiping away tears at the kitchen sink, and Sansa's heart ached for her. Which was funny because empathy for what others felt upon learning about Ben was something that had been missing in Sansa's life.

Jeyne heard Sansa and turned and then waved a hand.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm making this about me, and it's not, and he's your son, and I'm just … fucking this up!" she cried.

Sansa gave a little laugh, liking how real and raw Jeyne was.

"Are you going to think I'm a weirdo if I tell you that yours was one of the most honest reactions I've ever seen?"

Jeyne gripped the farmhouse sink.

"Christ, I'm not even a mom. Just a teacher. I don't know how you do it, Sansa. How do you stand there, breathing, when you know what you've lost? When he's gone?"

There was no pity in Jeyne's eyes, which somehow made this more manageable, as Sansa slid into a seat. For some reason, she felt composed and strong and able to talk to Jeyne about Ben and what losing him felt like. Jeyne felt safe, so Sansa went for it.

"You take it one moment, one breath, one minute at a time. And you vow that you'll never forget them, and you hope that when you're strong enough when you find the people that are meant to be your people, you'll be able to share your son with them. And that they'll get how special he was, even though they never met him. You hope he’ll be known and never forgotten.”

Jeyne nodded and came to take a seat across for Sansa, reaching for her hands.

"Would he be in school?" Jeyne asked, and Sansa nodded.

"Yeah. Or I guess just entering it this fall. So pre-school."

Jeyne taught the kindergarten/grade-one class at the small school on Skene.

"Wow."

Sansa smiled sadly. "I know. It's hard when they are so little. You always wonder what they would have been like – if their personalities would have changed. What they would have been when they grew up. There is so much that is stolen when a child dies – their future and mine as well. I’ll never take him to his first day of school. Never seem him off on his first date. Never see him get married. A child dying steals so much.”

Jeyne gave another sob and Sansa got it. It was brutal.

Sansa heard the patio door open and knew Jaime would be looking for her.

"Thanks for sharing Ben with us. With me," Jeyne told Sansa, and something inside Sansa warmed.

"Thanks for listening."

"Anytime," Jeyne said, her voice suddenly fierce and a look of determination in her eyes. "I mean it, Sansa. Anytime you need to rant or rage or vent, I'm here."

Knowing she'd made a true friend, beyond Jaime and Sandor, Sansa finally gave a little sniffle.

"Thanks. I can be a handful."

Jeyne smiled. "That's ok. I teach five-year-olds."

Sansa laughed, as she felt Jaime's hand on her shoulder and glanced up at him. There was so much love and concern there, but also pride.

"Things good with you and Sandor?" she asked.

Jaime's smile was genuine as he nodded. "Yeah. Things are good."

That made Sansa very happy since they were friends and now neighbours.

"Ready, love?"

"I am."

Sansa and Jeyne hugged hard, both women understanding that things had changed between them and both excited for the possibility of this new friendship.

"Don't be a stranger," Jeyne whispered, and Sansa hoped that meant Jeyne was planning on spending a lot more time at Sandor's place.

When they stepped back outside, Sandor and Buttercup were waiting by their vehicles, and Sansa hugged Sandor and thanked him for letting her visit the lambs.

He awkwardly patted her on the back and looked embarrassed but pleased. Then he slipped his hand into Jeyne's, and Sansa had to bite her lip from saying something. They were so adorable!

"Need help with the move?" Sandor asked Jaime, giving Sansa some clue as to what they had been discussing outside while she and Jeyne had been inside the farmhouse.

Jaime grinned, and Sansa saw it was free from the tension he'd been carrying these past few weeks.

"Nah, we've got it. It's mostly clothes and books. Some food and kitchen stuff. But it came fully furnished, and I don't need any of that stuff."

Sandor grunted, and then the two men did that weird handshake/head nod thing that Sansa had seen her brother and father do their entire lives.

"If you need anything, you let me know," Sandor said, and there was a wealth of meaning in those words. They were all neighbours now, but more, this friendship had been repaired.

"We will," Jaime said.

With a little toot, they were on their way, and Sansa was excited to get Jaime's things and move him into their new, shared home.

* * *

They made the first trip together, almost fitting all of Jaime's things inside their two trucks. Sansa soon realized that her guy was a bit of a clothes horse. And shoes. Good god, the man had so many shoes. And belts. Accessories. It was almost mind-boggling how well Jaime dressed.

Sansa thought about how she schlepped around in old yoga pants and flannel shirts most days but shrugged it off. If the occasion called for it, she could dress up. But this was Skene. And Jaime had fallen in love with her despite her lack of fashion sense these days.

Still, she snorted and mocked Jaime more than once for all the shit he owned.

"Most men don't have this much stuff, Jaime."

He gave her a look.

"I'm not most men. I'm a Lannister, darling. I was born needing this much stuff."

Since she figured there was a whole lot of truth to that statement, as well things she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge yet, she let it slide. She was now living with Jaime Lannister, heir to biggest fortune in Westeros. That was an elephant in the room they hadn’t yet discussed.

Still, she bitched a little bit as they hauled his stuff back to the cottage.

He laughed when he told her he could do the next trip himself, and she let him.

Sansa needed to phone Arya. Her conversation with Jeyne had been fantastic, but Arya was her best friend and sister, and she knew Sansa better than anyone.

"Sis, what's up… whoa! That's a happy face!" Arya said when their Facetime call connected.

Sansa knew she was beaming, and she realized it had most likely been a long time since Arya had seen her this happy.

"IaskedJaimetomoveintwithmeafterwehadsex!" she cried.

Arya arched an eyebrow. "Ok, I think I got that, but once more, and slower this time."

Sansa sucked in a deep breath. "I made a move, Arry. On Jaime!"

Arya snorted, "Well, I figured out the Jaime part. You're on Skene. Not like there are a lot of other choices."

"You'd be surprised how many hot men live here," Sansa muttered, and saw interest flare in Arya's eyes.

"Yeah?"

Sansa giggled. "Oh yeah. I mean, most of them are taken, but there is this one guy, a vet. He's quite handsome and single. I think he and Dacey used to date, but it didn't last."

Arya's snort interpreted Sansa.

"What?"

"It's just … it's been a long time since I've seen you like this. Happy. And trying to set me up."

Sansa glanced away from her screen, picking at non-existent lint on her pants.

"I'm happy. Like, really, really happy. So happy I asked Jaime to share my cottage."

"Holy shit, San. That's huge."

Sansa giggled. "That's not all that's huge."

Arya pretended she didn't want to hear about the size of Jaime's dick, but the sisters settled in for a long-overdue gossip session on men, sex and eventually, their family.

It was much needed and soothed Sansa's soul, that Arya was happy for her and the choices she was making. That was the best part about her sister – she might call her out on her shit, but Arya always had her back.

"Well, you've intrigued me with talk of #hotvet, and honestly, I've wanted to come and see you. So, maybe once exams are done in a few weeks, I'll pop over to Skene."

Both women knew it wasn't just 'popping' over and that it meant something that Arya wanted to come. That she cared this much. That Sansa hadn’t driven everyone away.

"I'd love that," Sansa said, meaning every word. "It's so wonderful here. Thanks, Arya. For always just being there for me."

Sansa saw how deeply her words affected her sister, who gave a jerk of her head.

"Always, San. We're Starks. We're a pack."

Sansa agreed and hung up, just sitting there, thinking of family, friends, and complicated and rocky relationships. What Arya said was true – the Starks were a pack. But Sansa was also building her own pack, here on Skene, with people she CHOSE to be in her life. People that made an effort and cared and that she felt a connection to.

She heard Jaime pull into the yard and cut the engine. Smiling, knowing he had to the last of his stuff, Sansa rose to go and help him bring it inside.

Maybe they were moving fast, but this was her choice. Hers and his, and it felt right. It felt like this was where she was meant to be. And that made all the difference in the world.

* * *

_ Wintertown - Arya _

Arya couldn't get the phone call with Sansa out of her mind for the rest of the day. She was busy preparing for her final exams in the first year of her MBA program.

Arya had messed around, going to university late, not knowing what she wanted to do, so at twenty-seven, she wasn't exactly 'young' when she was working on her Masters. She'd stayed in the North for her schooling, preferring it over places like Highgarden and Oldtown.

Arya liked her life and had worked hard to craft it to be what she wanted it to look like. She'd mostly resisted the pressure put on by their mother, to be a perfect Tully-Stark daughter, and found her own way in this world. Much to their mother’s chagrin somedays.

She'd been fiercely protective of Sansa when her sister's son had gotten sick.

From the moment Ben had been born, Arya loved him so much her heart ached. She'd never even thought of kids or having her own, but Ben was exceptional.

Arya often hid how devastating his illness and death had been on her from Sansa, knowing her sister didn't need the added burden of her grief. But losing Ben had almost killed Arya and there were still days when the grief was biting and fierce. She had no idea how Sansa had gotten through it. Ben wasn’t even her son and she ached all the time, thinking of him gone from them.

Arya had been worried about Sansa – especially when Harry the dickhead had cheated on her after Ben’s death. And it wasn’t just that he’d cheated on her, but found a whole different life and woman and just treated her sister like trash. Arya had wanted to lash out at him but had held back on account of Sansa.

When Sansa had announced she was moving to Skene, Arya's worry had kicked into overdrive. She wasn't sure that Sansa isolating herself on Skene had been a good idea. But her sister had insisted and Arya had her back.

And then Jaime freaking Lannister had happened.

Arya didn't know whether to laugh or rage when Sansa had started talking about him.

Arya knew all about the Lannister family. Tywin was practically a god in business circles, and you would have had to live under a rock to miss the insane scandal that Jaime had been caught up in.

So it was a concern, to hear about Jaime coming into Sansa’s world.

Arya had fretted. And worried. And wanted to fly to Skene to demand that Jaime treat Sansa well. Either that or leave her the f alone.

But she hadn't, because even with their battles, Arya could see that Jaime was doing what no one else had been able to do with her sister.

There was light back in her eyes. Fire in her soul. Happiness just at the edges of Sansa's smile.

In short, Jaime had somehow worked his way past all of Sansa's prickly defences and gotten IN. He’d broken down walls that Arya had been sure would have stayed up forever.

And now her sister was in love and was having sex and moving her new boyfriend into her cottage.

It was incredible.

Arya knew that Sansa could take care of herself – that she had been taking care of herself for years.

She knew that Sansa wouldn't appreciate Arya' checking up' on her.

But Arya was curious. Sansa had always loved big cities and culture and the best restaurants.

Skene was … remote.

After their phone call, Arya sat there, drumming her fingers against her laptop as she thought about Sansa and Jaime. Exams would be over in a few weeks.

While Arya had lined up an internship working with Cassel Enterprises in Wintertown this summer, maybe she could go to Skene to try to finagle Jaime into getting her a meeting with his father. It would be a two for one deal – she'd get to make sure Sansa really was happy, and she'd get a coveted 'in' with the Great Lion himself.

Arya loved the North, but she'd go to Lannisport for a few months if it meant working for Tywin Lannister.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about it and before bed, sent Sansa a text saying she wanted to visit in a few weeks. Lurking at the back of Arya's mind was also that her parents were hosting an upcoming political fundraiser for Robert and Cersei Baratheon. The formal invites hadn't gone out quite yet, but Arya wanted to talk to Sansa, face to face, about it. No matter what, Arya had her sister's back.

Sansa's response was almost immediate. Arya was welcome on Skene and could stay at their place.

That made Arya smile.

Her sister was a 'their' again. It was really what Sansa was meant for – a husband, a family, a home. Harry had done his level best to fuck that up for her, but her sister had persevered.

Satisfied she'd done all she could, for now, Arya let herself let go of her worry for Sansa. She had Jaime. And her. And this whole new life. A life on Skene, which Arya would see soon enough with her own two eyes.

* * *

_ Making Amends - Sansa _

The meddlers had been good at giving Jaime and Sansa space. Really good. Jaime was healing, and he and Sandor seemed to get back to where they were pre-lying.

As predicted, the puffins' arrival had brought the tourists back, and Sansa was shocked at how different the island felt. It was still warm and quaint and so dear to her, but it was different.

Jaime was busier than ever and working long hours, but she could tell how much he loved living together. Word had spread throughout the island that they'd moved in together, and Sansa had received more than one knowing look and happy smile about their living situation.

If Sansa had any doubts about Jaime living with her, they were assuaged within the first few days.

Her lion loved it. He was utterly adorable as he 'helped' her find spots for all his things, learned to cook, did the groceries with her. He preened under it all, proclaiming loudly to anyone who would listen they were living together.

Sansa had never met a man that needed a home, a family, a place to belong as much as Jaime did – as much as she did.

Their pasts both held trauma – some self-inflicted, others not. But together, they were crafting a life, together, on Skene. And even Sansa was sentimental enough to see how beautiful that was.

Ten days after Jaime moved in, Sansa was at the library, trying to figure out how to do a 'show and tell' with farm animals when she got an email from Jon.

Her heart raced a bit before she opened it.

Jon and Val and Brienne and Tormund were two couples where things hadn't quite gotten back to the way they were before.

With Jon and Val, it was mostly Sansa's issues with Val, while with the other couple, it was Jaime who was struggling with Brienne.

Sansa appreciated that Jon had emailed, and she had been meaning to reach out to him – to see if he had any baby goats for the epic show and tell she was planning. Skene was just too small to avoid people forever.

_Dear Sansa,_

_I heard you might require some goats for your baby animal show and tell. I am not meddling and didn't seek this information out. It's just, well, by now, you should know how Skene works. I apologize if I'm overstepping, but if you still want them, I can bring some by your cottage for a trial run. If I'm out of line, I am sorry._

_Best,_

_Jon_

Sansa read and then re-read his email and knew if she said no, she'd just be doing it out of spite. And she didn't want that. Still, she wanted to check with Jaime.

**Sansa: Have a few minutes to chat?**

Her phone rang almost immediately.

"Hello, my Sansa. What's on your mind?"

Sansa grinned, loving how wonderful Jaime made her feel.

She sighed and told him about Jon's email.

"Hmmm. How do you feel?"

She said nothing until she blurted out, "I want to see the baby goats. And, I don't like being at odds with people. But, I'm not quite ready to make up with Val." Sansa paused. "Does that make me a hypocrite?"

Jaime laughed, and the warmth chased away her fears. Jaime would be truthful with her.

"No darling, it doesn't. Why not see if Jon, just Jon, can come by."

"Alright. You're ok with that?"

"Ah, love, I'm fine with it. I do appreciate the call, but it's our home, Sansa."

"I know. But I know things haven't really gotten better between you and Brienne, and I just don't want to add to that."

"Sansa, it's fine."

She went to open her mouth when Jaime spoke again.

"Trust me, love. I'd tell you if it wasn't."

Knowing Jaime was being truthful, Sansa let it go. The ball was in her court.

She asked how his day was, and he told her funny stories about the tourists and the puffins. He'd also gone out on Davos's boat to see the whales that had started to come back, and then she asked what he wanted for supper. She liked cooking for Jaime, and he reminded her that he could change the wash when he got home.

"Wow, we're so domesticated," she said, loving it.

Jaime laughed. "We are. I'll see you later, my love. Email Jon. See the baby goats."

She sat there for another five minutes and then finally phoned Jon.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jon, it's Sansa. Ummm, does the offer still stand?"

She swore she could hear his relieved breath whoosh out of him and he probably had a little smile on his face.

"It does."

"Alright. That's cool. Umm, when would work?"

"Lyanna and I have some errands to run around your place later. Would 3 pm work?"

Sansa glanced at her watch and saw it was almost 1 pm. Jon coming over in a few hours wouldn't give her too long to brood. And he was bringing Lyanna, which somehow made it more comfortable.

"Sure. See you then."

"We'll be there." Jon paused. "And Sansa?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for giving us a second chance."

He hung up, leaving those final words resonating in her mind.

A second chance.

Wasn't that what she wanted with some of her friends and family after she'd pushed so many people away in her grief? Was it really too much to ask for with the meddlers? Was hanging on to her anger worth it?

Knowing it wasn't and knowing that she was doing the right thing, she puttered around the library, finally closing down at 2:30 pm and hurrying home. She'd just taken out some chocolate chip cookies and some milk when a knock came, and Lyanna burst inside.

She was a hurricane, and Jon was rushing after her.

"Lyanna, you have to wait to be invited in."

"But Sansa said we could come and visit her," she said, the logic of a four-year-old on display.

Jon ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, but it's still rude."

Lyanna crossed her arms. "Well, I don't think so."

Sansa had to bite her lip at the pure frustration on Jon's face, so she intervened. 

"Well, you're here now. I have some cookies and some puzzles and some colouring if you'd like," Sansa said, as Lyanna kicked off her boots and rushed towards the kitchen.

Sansa looked at Jon, who waved a hand.

"The kids are outside. I didn't think you'd want them in here."

Nodding, she set Lyanna up and then slipped on her Hunter boots and followed Jon to his truck.

He had three kids of different colours in a little crate, and they were baa'ing and making impatient sounds. They looked so soft, and her fingers itched to touch them. Jon saw, grinned and let them out.

Sansa watched them stumble around a bit at first before they found their footing and then went to explore this new yard. They said nothing for a time, watching the goats. Baby goats. Adorable baby goats in her yard in Skene.

"I'm sorry. For lying, and for pushing you two together," Jon finally said, glancing at her.

Sansa sighed and shoved her hands in her cardigan.

"I know. I do know. Trust me; I know what it feels like to mess up with friends."

"Are we friends?"

Sansa glanced at him then and saw the pain there.

"I thought we were. The lying hurt. It hurt me to see you guys lie to Jaime. But I guess out of everyone, and I thought you and I might have been the closest. So that sucked,” Sansa said bluntly. 

He gave a little nod.

"I think we're friends,” Jon answered.

"What does your wife think of that?" Sansa asked, shocked by how bold she was.

Jon gazed out towards the ocean, saying nothing. So Sansa pushed. This was a conversation that had to happen. And Jon had reached out to her. So now he had to listen to her. Even if that made him slightly uncomfortable. The Val issue wasn’t going away.

"I can't get there with Val. I want to, but she rubs me the wrong way, Jon."

He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and finally looked at her again.

"That's fair, I suppose. I don't think everyone in this world needs to be friends. Or even can be. But she's not a bad person, Sansa. Know that."

Sansa looked at him. Really looked. By all outward appearances, Jon Snow had a great life. A beautiful wife that adored him. Two healthy children. A thriving business. Friends. He had everything she'd dreamed of.

And more, he was a man that loved his wife. Sansa knew this. He wasn't standing here making excuses for her, but he did love her. It was clear to Sansa that he'd stand up for her. And that meant something to her because Harry wasn't the type of man that would have done that.

Harry had been the opposite of that type of man. When their lives got tough, he’d bailed. Long before Ben died and he had cheated. Harry had just … given up on them.

But neither Jaime, nor Jon, or Tormund or Sandor were those type of men. They’d dig in and be there for their wives.

"You really love her."

For the first time since he arrived, the tension eased, and Jon’s smile was soft and warm.

"Yeah, I do. And she's not perfect. I'm not saying that she's gone through what you have. She hasn't, Sansa. But she's a good person. Down to her soul, she's a good person. She feels things so much. And she takes so much on her shoulders. She needs someone like you, who isn't intimidated by her. Who calls her out for her crap. Who challenges her."

Sansa snorted.

"Somehow, I do NOT get the impression that Val would appreciate me for calling her out on her crap, as you so bluntly put it."

Jon gave a rueful grin and a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Ok. Maybe not. Maybe not like that. But she's been so used to being in charge. Many women just defer to her, and many things wouldn't get done if she didn't step up. Things like organizing clothing drives and soup kitchens and stuff that makes Skene a great place to live. She feels so much, Sansa, and she loves her home so much. She'll wear herself thin to make sure others are happy."

Sansa's eyes narrowed.

"All of this makes her sound even more perfect, Jon."

He laughed and shook his head. "Trust me. She's not."

"How?"

"What?"

"How is she not perfect?" Sansa demanded, suddenly needing to know.

Jon got contemplative again before speaking.

"She worries about her looks too much, which is silly because she's always so beautiful. She always has cold feet but refuses to wear sock or slippers. She's not a morning person at all. I mean, she's crabby as hell before she's had at least three cups of coffee. She's always late, which drives me mad, and we fight about that more than we should. She volunteers for everything and has no idea how to say no."

Jon frowned, and Sansa could see that some of this did bother him. It must be hard to be married to a woman that just kept giving. Sansa didn’t doubt how much Val loved Skene. Sansa knew that Jon was quiet and liked his time with just his family on his little farm. Val was at the center of everything.

Sansa gazed at him with new respect in her eyes.

"I really love how much you love your wife, Jon. It's admirable."

"I think that's how a man is supposed to love his wife. Fully and completely. Otherwise, why's he there?"

Sansa nodded. "Yeah, _should_ being the operative word."

For the first time since they began to speak, Sansa saw the anger on Jon's face. Anger for her.

"Your ex-husband was an asshole, Sansa. I know if he stepped one foot on Skene, Jaime would have words with him. And I'd be standing right behind Jaime, ready to back him up."

Sansa's mouth dropped open at that statement, and then she threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh god, Harry wouldn't know what hit him."

Jon's mouth was in a tight line. "He shouldn't have treated you like that, Sansa."

"You're a good man, Jon Snow."

He shrugged. "I'm just a man, Sansa. Like Jaime. Prone to making mistakes and fucking up spectacularly. But I do know how to say sorry and mean it."

Sansa felt the last of her anger drain out of her. She really didn't want to be at odds with her friends anymore.

"These people here, they don't really understand pain – not the way that you do. Or myself. Not that I'm comparing my crappy childhood to what you went through. I'm not. And I'm not making excuses for them, Sansa. There is no excuse for any of our behaviour. But they aren't equipped for it, you know? They don't know what to do with someone like you – who's going through what you have."

Sansa sighed. She got it. She knew what it was like not to know what to say to someone in her shoes. Hell, before Ben got sick, she wouldn’t have had a clue what to say to someone like her.

"I just need time, Jon. I just … fuck, I know I sound like a bitch, but I'm not ready yet with Val. But I think we're good."

"That's fine. You might never be. And we'll deal with it."

They were quiet for a time.

"I'm sorry about Ben," Jon said, and Sansa heard the pain and empathy in his voice.

Sansa sniffed. "I never imagined it would be me. I mean, rationally, as a parent, you know that kids die. You know that’s the nightmare. But you can never be prepared that it's going to happen to you."

Jon nodded.

"I can't even imagine. For what it's worth, we're so sorry, Sansa. We knew it was something bad, but hearing about your husband on top of it, it really hit home the shitty hand you were dealt.”

Sansa sighed again.

"You know, four months ago, I was so pissed. I mean, it was grief because of Ben. But the betrayal by Harry was overshadowing any healing. And then I came here, and everything just came to a head. So some of this is on me. I know that. Just like I know some of my issues with Val aren't fair."

"Does having Jaime help?" Jon asked, and he sounded genuinely curious.

Sansa smiled. "Having Jaime means everything."

"I'm glad."

"Me too," came a third voice.

Sansa turned, realizing that somehow Jaime had arrived while they'd been talking. Warmth spread through her as he opened his arms, and she went to him.

His strong embrace made her feel safe and cherished. And soothed the ache that her conversation with Jon had brought.

"Snow," Jaime said, an edge to his voice.

"Jaime. I'm sorry. For my part in all the meddling. I promise we'll stay out of your lives from now on."

Sansa felt Jaime tense for a moment and then release it all in a breath.

"Well, not too far out. We're friends, right?"

Jon's eyes almost lit, and he nodded, smiling at Jaime.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're friends."

The men shook hands and Sansa knew things were going to be ok. Maybe not perfect and maybe not all at once. But they were all going to be ok.

"DADDY! The goats are eating Sansa's plants," came Lyanna's voice from around the side of the cottage.

"Shit, I'd better round them up."

It made Sansa laugh to see three adults try to corral three baby goats, but eventually, they were back in their pen, and Lyanna was saying she wanted to go home. Sansa promised she'd be in touch with Jon about the show and tell, and then they were off, leaving Sansa standing there with Jaime.

"Good talk?" he asked, brushing back her hair that has escaped her braid.

Sansa thought about it and then nodded, kissing Jaime softly. "Yeah, good talk."

Things weren't perfect, but they were better than they had been.

"I'm glad," Jaime said, and Sansa could see that he meant it. She slipped her hand into his.

"Ready to learn how to make fried chicken from scratch?"

Jaime's eyes lit as he suddenly swung her around in his arms as Sansa laughed. Being with Jaime chased away the last of the hurt and the ache from the day.

"I am."

When he set her down, Sansa gazed into his eyes.

"Welcome home, Jaime."

He grinned. "Welcome home, Sansa."

Then hand in hand, they turned and went inside – to their home and the life they were building together, on Skene.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime has a guys night (might involve fire and some whiskey and some NSFW chatter), Jaime and Brienne finally chat, Arya comes for a visit, and Jaime tells Tywin about Sansa.


	24. Guy’s Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to guy's night at Sandor, then speaks with Brienne and his father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all
> 
> I just couldn't get Arya to Skene this chapter but no worries, she will be coming!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one!
> 
> Thanks, MF. For being a cheerleader.

* * *

_ The Cottage – Sansa _

"So you're sure you're fine with this?" Jaime asked for what had to be the third time.

Sansa laughed, leaning against the counter. Jaime had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a worried look on his face.

"I'm sure. You're going to Sandor's place. I can call you home if I need you," Sansa said, trying not to roll her eyes at him.

It really was adorable how worried he was.

It was Saturday night, and Jaime had been moved in at her cottage for a few weeks. They'd settled into an incredible rhythm, and it was as if they'd lived together forever. Sansa loved having Jaime to cook for, to share meals, to share her bed. Especially that last one.

The man was incredible in the bedroom and seemingly dedicated to giving her as many orgasms as she could handle. And she could handle a lot. It was as if she’d been missing out on truly great sex her entire adult life.

It made her realize that so much had been missing in her marriage. It was more than Ben's diagnosis and his death. She and Harry had been doomed. Had she stayed, had she never found him cheating, it still would have been a half-life because they weren’t just compatible people who had the same goals and value in life.

Jaime took care and loved her so much and showed her every day how he felt. They valued time together, family, friends, honesty. They both had been through incredible journeys that had tested them. And they both understood that they were still healing.

Sansa had given Jaime something he'd never had – a real home with a woman he loved.

The man loved strolling through the village with her, hand in hand. He stopped by the library almost every day and always brought her little treats. Sometimes it was something from Mayra's; other times, he'd pick flowers or bring her a funny article he'd found online.

They'd talked about her Ph.D., her research on Skene and what she’d found. Jaime told her that he loved how intellectual she was, and they could be found curled up on their couch, tea in hand, just chatting in the evenings. Sansa loved the rhythm at the library and little museum, and how invested Jaime was in things that interested her.

Jaime also encouraged her to talk with her advisor Royce to see if completing her Ph.D., was something she wanted to pursue. The research was almost done; it would be a matter of writing her dissertation and then to defend it orally before a board. Sansa wasn’t after a career in academia anymore, but she was a person that valued finishing something she started.

Jaime did not want to stand in the way of her schooling and assured her that they could make it work whatever her choice. It had been nice to have his support, and she didn't want to feel like she was abandoning it. But it was a lot of work, and right now, Sansa was enjoying her life and taking things one day at a time. It was a good philosophy.

She'd also spent a lot of time thinking about two women – her sister, who'd insisted on coming to visit, which made Sansa very excited, and Val Snow.

Hearing Jon defend his wife, flaws and all, Sansa felt the walls around her heart begin to crack. They had gotten off on such the wrong foot, and while things might never be perfect between them, Sansa didn't want it to be as awkward as it had been. Especially since the island was so small and Sansa loved it here.

Case in point, Jaime was stalling, even though they both knew he needed to go to Sandor's place tonight. It was the next step in forgiving his friends and mending the final fences.

"Jaime, do I have to kick you out of our house?"

"No."

He stuck out his lower lip and did something with his eyes that made her all melty inside.

 _Gods, he made her heart happy_ , she thought, smiling to herself. Things with Jaime were fun. The man had an endless capacity for joyful moments and yet he allowed her the space she needed, either to grieve or work off a mad that came on suddenly.

As much as she loved having Jaime all to herself, she knew he needed to go to Sandor’s. She pushed off from the counter and put a sway in her hips, locking lips with him as she rubbed up against him. She pulled at his lip and then nipped, feeling so damn great.

"Jaime," she purred, reaching down to cup his ass and squeeze, as he groaned and dragged her closer.

"Go to Sandor's. Drink some drinks. Enjoy this man time with your friends. Jeyne is coming over to teach me how to knit, and we're going to gossip about our men and drink a bottle of wine."

He moaned into her mouth, hands in her hair as he tried to get closer to her.

"Maybe I should stay here," he countered, and she felt how hard he was.

She laughed, rich and deep. "Nope. No sugar for you if you don't go."

He sighed and nodded.

"Alright. But I have my cell phone, and you have Sandor's number, and I'm right there."

Sansa nodded, thinking he was adorable. She was all but shoving him out the door when Jeyne pulled up.

"Go, love," Sansa said, eager for this night with her friend. It had been so long since Sansa had a girls night – even with just one other woman and she wanted this time with Jeyne.

Jaime gave her a little wave as he hopped in his truck, off to spend the night with his friends and leaving Sansa with Jeyne, eager to learn how to knit and talk about their men.

* * *

_ Sandor's Farm – Jaime _

Jaime knew that Sansa wasn't precisely kicking him out of their house, and he knew she thought it was a good idea for him to go. But it sort of felt like it. She was excited for her night with Jeyne, and he did want to see the guys.

He did want to go. Mostly. He'd mended fences with the guys for the most part. It was nice that Sansa and Jon had cleared the air and that things were getting better there.

Things were back to normal with him and Pod and even Sandor. Neither Gendry nor Davos had anything to do with the meddling, so they were cool.

It was Bronn and Tormund that were the question marks in Jaime's mind.

Tormund because Jaime and Brienne were still at odds, and Bronn because there had always been a weird competitive tension between the two men, which Jaime had yet to figure out.

Still, Jaime knew that it was a good chance to be with the guys and perhaps take even more steps to repair some of those relationships. He wasn’t a man that held a grudge, apart from perhaps some lingering bad feelings when it came to Cersei. But Jaime figured he was entitled to those after what that woman had put him through.

Having Jeyne show up was his cue to go. Jeyne and Sansa had forged a strong friendship, and the two couples were spending more and more time together. It was nice to be so close with their neighbours.

Jaime had learned so much in the past few weeks, living with Sansa. The number one thing was that he adored being in a committed, loving relationship. Everyone on the island knew that they were a couple, and they were treated that way. It had been a revelation to be so accepted and welcomed being coupled up with a woman he loved.

Everything about their life had been worth fighting for – the tension and misunderstandings at the beginning, the tough conversations and revelations, and finally, the wooing. All of it had led to Sansa and the best relationship he'd ever had. Coming home to her, waking up beside her, being able to draw her close in the night. All of it was everything Jaime wanted.

He knew she was still figuring things out. He knew her journey was far from over.

There were moments when she got lost in her head – times when Jaime knew that she was thinking of Ben.

She was such a warrior and watching her fight for not only herself but their future was one of the most staggering and humbling things Jaime had ever witnessed in his life. And he was determined to be by her side for the rest of his life. Sansa was it for him.

Now to fix things on Skene, truly fix them, Jaime knew the next steps were up to him. There were still some fences to mend.

And truth be told, Jaime missed being with the guys. The pub nights had been one of the highlights during his first year on Skene. He'd never had such a close group of guy friends before. He and Addam were best friends and colleagues and had gone through literal hell together, first in the academy and then on the streets.

But there was something slightly different about the guys on Skene. Their jobs weren't dangerous like his and Addams's were in King's Landing. They talked about real things, like women and neighbours, someone that needed help or what the kids were doing for the school play. The guys on Skene were rugged and manly and yet, as a group, shockingly open about how much they adored their wives.

It was something Jaime had been envious of during that first year here, but now that he had Sansa, he got it. Gods, did he get it. Jaime had no problem bragging about Sansa to anyone who would listen. He felt like a fucking king when she held his hand during their walks through town. And even though Jaime knew it was fast, when the time was right, Jaime was going to propose to her.

He packed his little rig and drove across the bridge to Sandor’s place. When he was parked, he hopped out of his truck, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and a tub of cookies Sansa had sent. Buttercup was there, and he rubbed her head and then headed around the back of the house, to the deck where Jaime had spent several nights in the past few weeks, hanging with Sandor and Jeyne. He realized he was comfortable at Sandor’s place, and that eased some of the tension.

There was an awe-inspiring fire going, several lawn chairs around it. The fire pit was a stunning piece of metal craftsmanship, which Jaime knew Gendry had done. He dabbled in his spare time, and it was a work of art.

"Lion," Tormund said, not a roar, somewhat wary.

"Wildling," Jaime replied and saw Tormund's shoulders relax.

"How is kissed by fire?" Tormund asked quietly as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to ask about Sansa.

Jaime grinned. "She's fantastic. How are Brienne and the girls?"

Tormund's smile was so hopeful that Jaime knew this had been the right move. It was time to forgive and move on – move forward. Skene was too small for grudges.

"She's good. Happy to be on call so we can have what she calls 'male bonding time.'"

Tormund rolled his eyes, and Jaime chuckled.

“Yes, well, always listen to the wife.”

"Bah. Women." The Wildling waved a hand, but there was no heat there. Tormund adored his wife and his daughters.

"Nora babysitting?"

Tormund nodded, and the two men shook hands before Jaime pulled Tormund in for a hug.

"Are we good?" Tormund asked quietly.

"We're good," Jaime responded, heartfelt.

Jon and Sandor, the only other two already there, were watching them. Both men nodded and after Jaime and Tormund broke apart, Jon held out his hand.

Jaime shook it, and they did the man hug thing again.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry, and I promise I'll never lie to you again," Jon said quietly to Jaime. Jaime could hear the sincerity in Jon’s voice and knew these guys would always be honest with him.

"I know, Jon. I know."

The tension now down several notches, Jaime was handed a beer as he added Sansa's cookies to the picnic table filled with salads, appetizers, sandwiches and other treats. It was clear that Jeyne had not wanted them to go hungry, and Val and Brienne had likely added to the food for the night.

There was a cooler of beer and soft drinks and a few hard alcohol bottles already on the table. Someone had turned on country music and it added to the entire atmosphere.

Feeling good and happy, Jaime stood by Sandor, observing the roaring fire.

"Think it's big enough?" Jaime smirked, asking about the fire.

"Fuck off. The Wildling will watch it, and I'm fine if I sit or stand far enough back."

Stricken, Jaime realized that Sandor thought he was making a comment about his face and his known fear of fire.

"Jesus, man, that's not what I was getting at. I just meant it's huge."

Sandor chuckled and patted Jaime on the back and winked. "Got you."

Jaime's mouth dropped open, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

Others arrived, Davos, Pod and Gendry, both of them with more drinks and food. Finally, Bronn rolled up, grumbling about leaving his bar. However, Jaime could tell he was happy to be included.

Jaime was in a comfy lawn chair, pleasantly buzzed and tipped his bottle at Bronn as he observed the hard man.

"Lannister."

"Blackwater."

Jaime cocked his head and gazed up at Bronn. "So, why don't you like me?" Jaime had a pleasant buzz going and had already cleared the air with Jon and Tormund. Time to fix this situation – or at least get to the bottom of why Bronn didn’t like him.

Bronn sputtered and then ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Looks it’s not that I don't like you."

Jaime took another pull of his beer, knowing he'd switch to whiskey soon, but enjoying seeing Bronn squirm a bit. Jaime was damn good at getting the truth out of people.

"But you don't like me, Bronn."

"Fuck, what are we? A bunch of fucking women, sitting around, talking about _feelings_?" He sneered the last word.

Jaime laughed. "I'm definitely not a woman, but yeah, Bronn. Let’s talk about our feelings. What is up between us?"

Bronn gave an angry little growl and then paced a bit. Jaime just sat back and let the man work through whatever it was he was going through.

"It's Ygritte, alright," Bronn blurted out finally.

The others had taken their seats, drinks in hand and were watching the Jaime – Bronn show.

"Ygritte?" Jaime asked, suddenly confused. He barely spoke to the woman.

Bronn turned back to Jaime, his face pained.

"I love her, alright. I fucking love her, and she just wants to keep things casual. And every time some handsome new fucker like you, or the tourists that flock to this island, show up, I lose her."

Jaime's mouth dropped open. "But I've never even …"

"I know. I fucking know. A woman like that isn't for a man like you. Even when you were fucking around with that cunt down in King's landing, you were always better than a man like me."

Jaime stood up suddenly, shaking his head, suddenly needing to fix this.

"Fuck, Bronn, I've never thought like that. Jesus, man. Ygritte is beautiful and smart and funny, but she's just not for me. I've been with an edgy woman before, and I just …"

Suddenly Bronn deflated and sat heavily in a chair, holding his head.

"Fuck, I know. I know how great she is. I try to tell her that. But she's got this hard wall around her heart. She was burned before, and she doesn't let anyone in."

Jaime laid a hand on Bronn's shoulder.

"Well, you don't give up, lad," Davos said, whiskey in hand, leaning forward and inserting himself into the conversation.

Bronn looked up.

"What?"

Davos shrugged. "You don't give up. She's been hurt, and she's prickly. But once you get in, you'll be in for good. You said you love her. Fine. But what are you going to do to prove that you won't be like the last asshole that broke her heart?"

Bronn looked stunned as if he hadn't even considered it. "Do you think it's possible?"

Davos chuckled. "Lad, we've all seen how you two carry one. Time to stop playing games and step up. Be a man."

Bronn actually looked relieved and kissed Davos on the lips before reaching for a bottle and some cups, declaring it was time to fucking drink.

Content now that things had been cleared up, Jaime watched his friends. When everyone was seated again, Sandor shuffled to his feet and looked at him.

"Lannister, we know it's been said, but we'll repeat it. We're sorry, and we'll stay the fuck out of your life."

Feeling good, Jaime smiled. "I don't need you nosy fuckers to stay out of my life. God knows you won’t. That’s just not Skene. I just need you all not to fucking lie to me."

They all laughed, agreed and toasted to that.

"So now that we're all friends again, tells us about kissed by fire, lion," Tormund said. "Are you going to have babies with her?"

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he gave a little laugh.

"Are you going to have babies with Brienne?" he countered. Babies and Sansa were an intensely private matter and not one Jaime was willing to talk about with his friends.

The man's entire face changed. "I hope so. She'll be magnificent, and our babies will be huge."

"Gods, you're a mad fucker," Sandor muttered.

"I want to have kids with Wyn,” Pod blurted out suddenly. 

Everyone turned to look at Jaime's deputy as Pod blushed. But the alcohol had made him bold. Into it now, he leaned forward.

"She's incredible. Smart and kind and so funny. She's everything. And I'm going to ask her to marry me at the summer solstice dance."

There was a round of hearty congratulations with that announcement. It was impossible not to like Pod and to not be happy for him and Wyn.

"Pod, I'm so happy for you," Jon said.

"Is marriage as great as you and Val make it seem?"

Jon grinned, and Jaime liked seeing this slightly looser Jon Snow, who'd had a few drinks and was smiling a lot. He'd lost that sullen broody look he sported so well.

"Pod, my friend, marriage to the right woman is fuckin' everything," Jon answered, a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his face.

Davos and Tormund both heartily agreed. Usually, this would be the part of the evening where Jaime would feel both ashamed of his choices with Cersei and slightly jealous and apart from the others. Because he'd had no one in his life the way these men did.

But not now. Because he had Sansa, and while they hadn't said the M-word, they had said the L-word, and they were living together. Their future was … undefined in terms of where they might end up, but Jaime knew wherever it was, he'd be by her side.

"I can't wait," Pod said eagerly and then pulled out his phone to show the guys the ring he'd picked out.

"Word of advice. You have to get creative if you have kids when it comes to finding time to make love," Jon said, clearly on a roll now, taking another big drink, relaxing back in his chair, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Really?" Pod said, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Jaime and Sandor shared a look before Jaime snickered, and Sandor snorted. Jaime might have been a bit drunker than he realized.

"Shower sex is always a good option. Or while she's getting dressed. Oh, nap time is a good one as well, if you can sneak home and time it right," Jon said, and Jaime let a drunken giggle burst forth.

"Remind me not to stop by the Snow house during nap time."

Jon just gave a grin and tipped his drink at Jaime.

"At least I'm not an old man," Jon retorted. "Poor Sansa might have to buy you some little blue pills."

Jaime grinned. "Trust me when I say that Sansa has no complaints. And I'm not the one worried about 'fitting' in sex. I have plenty of time to make sure my woman is well satisfied."

Jaime winked at Jon, who shook his head but was still smiling. Something unmentioned passed between them – as if Jon knew there were no guarantees that Sansa would want a baby, but that Jaime loved her no matter what.

Instead, Jon said quietly, "I'm glad she has you, Jaime."

Jaime swallowed hard over the sudden lump in his throat. It meant a lot, coming from King Jon with the perfect fucking marriage – to hear such an endorsement of their relationship.

Needing to lighten the mood, Jaime cleared his throat and spotted Sandor.

"Well, lads, I don't know that it's me we should be worried about. If anyone, it's poor Jeyne. Sandor is a beast compared to her."

Sandor crossed his massive arms across the back of his head and gave a satisfied grunt.

"Trust me, Lannister, Jeyne has no complaints. And I'll thank you beforehand for knocking on my door before you enter my house." Sandor grinned. “Unless you need some pointers.”

Jaime howled and was joined by Tormund and Davos, who slapped the big man on the back and poured another round of drinks.

"Well, you're not exactly a spring chicken yourself, Sandor,” Jaime said.

Then Jaime met Jon's eyes, and both men cackled in laughter, as Tormund howled in delight.

"Because he loves those fucking chickens so much!" The Wildling was leaking tears he was laughing so hard.

"You dumb cunts probably make your woman come once and think that's enough. I can go all night!" the big man roared as everyone started whistling and clapping.

"Oh, I have stamina. If you're quiet, I'm sure you can hear …."

Suddenly Jaime shut up, wondering if Sansa would be upset at him sharing so much about their private life.

The guys gave Jaime a hard time, but soon another round of drinks was on its way, just as his phone buzzed.

**Sansa: Having fun, babe?**

Jaime fumbled with his phone as the others made whipping noises. He didn’t mind. Jaime was all in for Sansa and didn’t care who knew it.

"Ahh, shut it," he mumbled and somehow ended up Facetiming her instead of texting back. When her face filled the screen, Jaime temporarily forgot why he'd called.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he mumbled, hearing the guys bug him again.

Jaime didn't care that much. He was speaking to Sansa. She laughed, bright and happy.

"Jaime, how much have you had to drink?"

He looked down at his half-full whiskey glass and frowned. "I don't know."

She laughed again. "Oh, lord. Do I need to come and pick you up?"

"Ahhh, love, not quite yet. Been a while since I've tied one on like this."

"Ohhh, Jaime has to ask permission," one of the guys said, as the rest laughed as if they were comedians.

She shook her head. "Ok, but eat something, please. Jeyne said that there was food there."

Jaime nodded, thinking about the food he'd seen piled on the picnic table. Suddenly he was hungry and his empty stomach was growling in hunger.

"Yeah, I'll do that. Gods, baby, I love you so much," Jaime mumbled as the others made kissy sounds.

"How about Jeyne and I come by in an hour," Sansa said, as Jaime squinted, trying to make out the time. "It'll be around 11 pm then," she said.

"Oh, that sounds good. I'm gonna eat some cookies. Not as good as your cookie, but some real cookies."

Sansa blushed red and then said she'd see him in a little while.

Jaime felt a bit sad when she was gone, but then Jon was there, helping Jaime to his feet. He stumbled only slightly, before arm in arm, they made their way over to the table laden with food.

"Gods, this is so fucking good," Jaime said, shovelling potato salad into his mouth. He moaned around a bite of spicy pulled pork that Sandor boasted was his specialty.

"I like pigs. No one has pigs as pets here on Skene," he said, as the rest of the guys followed suit and loaded up plates full of food.

Bronn snorted.

"Remember when you freaked out when you thought I fed you mutton stew," the publican said, as Jaime paused in his eating, looking down at his plate.

At that moment, Buttercup bleated and bumped Jaime's arm.

"Not funny, Bronn."

But it was, and Jaime liked that part of guys' night seemed to be bugging each other. There was nothing malicious about it, and it reaffirmed that the entire mess with the meddlers had been a series of poor choices by good people. Jaime hadn't even admitted it to Sansa, but he'd been worried these relationships had been broken beyond repair. He was so grateful that they weren't.

"So Gendry, what's up with you and Dacey?" Sandor asked, the big man comfortable in his own space.

Gendry shrugged, taking a swig of beer. "It was casual, you know. We tried, but nothing ever really came of it. No spark."

Sandor and Bronn grunted in understanding.

"Besides, it's not like there's a lot of options in Skene. Sansa took one look at Handsome Jaime, and that was it."

Jaime grinned. "Fuck, she did. Gods, she was pissy with me. That woman has a fucking spine of steel. And I won't apologize for snatching her up."

Sandor snorted. "With our fucking help."

There was dead silence.

"Too soon?" Sandor deadpanned.

Jaime didn't say anything for a moment, making them sweat it out before he threw his head back and laughed. Gods, these guys. Jaime fucking loved them.

"You're such a fucker," Jaime retorted.

"Just being neighbourly," Sandor shot back.

"You know, she has a sister," Jaime said suddenly, remembering Sansa telling him that Arya was going to come to Skene for a visit.

"What?" Sandor asked, looking confused, as Gendry said, "Really?"

Jaime nodded, concentrating on Gendry, ignoring Sandor.

"Yeah. A year younger. She's coming for a visit."

"Yeah? When?" Gendry asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"Soon. Umm, we'll ask Sansa," Jaime said.

"Ask Sansa what?"

Jaime looked up and saw the love of his life standing there.

"SANSA!" he cried drunkenly. "You're here. You're here, right?"

She was sort of blurry. She laughed and then came and settled herself on his lap, handing him a bottle of water and a bun.

"I am love. Eat and drink this," she said, as Jaime nuzzled her neck.

"Gods, you always smell so good. I love licking you."

She blushed red and swatted at him. "Jaime, eat."

He grinned, and he took his first bite of the bun and guzzled half the bottle of water, knowing he was drunk and yet so very happy. He was back with his friends and had the love of his life on his lap. Jeyne was giggling at something Sandor was whispering into her ear while the other guys were talking about making more shots.

"Oh no, none for Jaime. He's done," Sansa state, Jaime knowing she meant it.

The guys started bugging him, but Jaime didn't care. He carded his hands up into her glorious mane of hair and brought her lips down to his. He knew that Brienne had things under control from the policing end of things, but he'd drank enough. He liked that Sansa cared so much and was here with him. For once, Jaime had a good woman by his side.

The Chief of Police was never really off duty, and now it was time to sober up. And besides, any more alcohol and he'd be unable to make love to Sansa tonight, and like hell, Jaime was going to miss out on that.

Sansa snuggled into his lap, and Jaime stroked her back, seeing how Jeyne was in the same position on Sandor's lap, the big man smiling softly at Jeyne.

The others had slowed down a bit, and within the hour, the designated drivers showed up to take the others home, and Sansa helped Jaime to his truck as they'd driven over in Jeyne's. Jaime closed his eyes as she started to drive, loving how close everything was on Skene, how familiar it all was, how much he loved it here.

Sansa laughed at him as he kicked off his shoes and promised to clean up after himself tomorrow. He was able to go to the bathroom and drink more water before Sansa handed him two pain pills, and then he crawled into their bed and pulled her close. He nuzzled her neck and wrapping an arm around her middle.

"Love you so much," he whispered into her ear.

Her hands went over his, squeezing back and letting Jaime know he was exactly where he was destined to be. In Sansa's arms, on Skene, in their little cottage, building a life together, with the people they loved and who loved them back.

* * *

_ The Station - Jaime _

Jaime spent Sunday lounging on the couch or outside on a hammock that Sansa had set up, nursing his hangover and watching Sansa putter around their home. She was really into gardening and kept checking on him and his heavy head.

Last night had been eye-opening and had fixed the last of the tense edges between Jaime and his male friends on the island. Now, as he rested on the hammock, he contemplated how to fix things with Brienne.

Val and Sansa would have to come to their own solution, and Jaime had confidence that in time, they would. Neither woman was by nature a grudge holder.

But he and Brienne had to figure things out because they worked together, and Jaime liked Tormund, and he didn't like being at odds with people even if those people might 'deserve' it.

Two days after guys' night, Jaime told Pod to do a long sweep of Skene's outer permitter, concentrating on the tourists. Jaime had finally decided that today was the day he aired things out with Brienne.

Jaime stopped by Mayra's café and ordered a few lattes to go and added a few baked goods. Sugar and caffeine were like blood to cops and it wouldn’t hurt to maybe break the tension between them.

It wasn't a peace offering. Jaime hadn't thought he'd done anything wrong. In fact, he knew he hadn't. But this couldn't go on. Even if they were never friends like they had been, they had to work together.

Brienne glanced up when he opened the door to the station. Jaime said nothing but slid a large to-go cup towards her.

"We need to talk."

"I have work," she said, voice stiff, not meeting his eyes.

Jaime sucked in a deep breath.

"Pod is on patrol. We have time. Even if you don't have anything to say, I have things to say to you, Brienne."

She said nothing but took the coffee, eyeing him warily.

"I knew my affair was wrong. From the moment I started it, I knew. And I did it anyway. But what I felt for Cersei, I justified it."

Jaime paused and leaned forward, seeing that Brienne was listening intently to him.

"What I am saying is that we can know we're making a bad choice, a poor choice, and yet, our brains can justify it. We can convince ourselves that what we're doing is right, even when we know it's wrong."

She stiffened, her lips compressed in a thin line, and Jaime wondered if he'd ever get through to her. This was about more than their friendship – if a person couldn't admit they were wrong, that was a real problem in their profession. People made mistakes. But this inability of Brienne to admit that was a serious concern for Jaime, both professionally and personally.

"Brienne, I have to be able to trust you. You have to see that the meddling was wrong. Not even as a friend, but as a police officer and what your duty is. I have to know that you see the harm your actions could have caused."

He said nothing, just looking at her, praying she got it. Finally, she spoke.

"I was embarrassed. And upset. That you thought I would put you or Sansa in harm's way. I knew that you wouldn't hurt her, and to have my judgement questioned like that, well, I don't do well with being publicly reprimanded, Jaime."

Jaime gave her an incredulous look. "You left me no choice Brienne. What you did was dangerous and reckless. And it involved our friends and the woman I love."

She squirmed a bit, picked at a nail and refused to meet his eyes. Jaime waited her out.

"I know," she finally whispered. "I know it was wrong. But then being questioned, like that, in front of our friends made it all worse."

"We all fuck up. We all make mistakes. I won't lie – you refusing to see that it was wrong, it worried me, Brienne. It made me question if I could trust you. And I have to be able to trust you. I have to trust that when you mess up again, you'll see it, and I can speak to you about it. If you can't handle that, then I'm not sure being a cop is the right job for you."

Her eyes went wide and flew up to meet his, her hands now shaking.

"Jaime, no. I love my job."

The thing was Jaime knew she did. Brienne was dedicated to her job. But it wasn't just about loving the job. A person had to have some self-awareness.

"Brienne, you have so much potential. I see how much you care about Skene, care about the safety of this place and the people that live here. Before I came here, I thought this job was … well, I'll be honest. I thought perhaps it was beneath me. I was a detective with one of the highest solve rates in all of King's Landing. And then I was sent here. After a massive and very public fuck up, much of which was _my_ fault. I thought that this would be easy. In some ways, policing on Skene is easy. There are no rapists, no murders. Very little theft and no truly monstrous people."

Brienne was looking at him with rapt attention now.

"But in other ways, it's the hardest thing I've done. These people are our friends, our neighbours. We buy our groceries from them and go to school plays. We attend functions with them and buy raffle tickets from their children. We love these people, and it's our job to keep them safe. All of them safe. The burden is heavy."

Jaime sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, feeling the slight scruff. Sansa loved it, so he let it go a few days between shaves.

"You have to learn from this. Grow from it. Become more flexible and let people in. The world isn't black and white. People aren't black and white. Are we clear?"

Brienne nodded, and Jaime rose, giving her space. It was a lot to process, and he hoped she'd heard him. In the end, it was up to her if things were fixed between them. Jaime was willing to try, and he hoped she knew that. He reached the door when her voice stopped him.

"Jaime, we're going to be ok, right?"

He turned back and smiled, knowing that with time, they would be fine.

"Yeah, Brienne, we are."

Her face showed the relief she felt, and Jaime felt the weight lift from his shoulders. Things were going to be alight. And right now, he needed Sansa. If he hurried, he could catch storytime with the 3-5-year-old group and maybe, just maybe, she had a role for him to play.

* * *

Jaime had caught storytime, although today featured Jon as the Huntsman in Snow White, which delighted little Lyanna Snow to no end, who was almost bouncing with joy at her father participating in her favourite pastime on Skene.

It warmed something deep inside Jaime's psyche that other parents and patrons nodded and smiled to him, knowing that he 'belonged' here because he and Sansa were together. There were no secrets on Skene, and everyone knew that they were a couple.

Jaime and Jon talked after the story was done, while the kids ran around and got Sansa to help them with books. The kids all loved Sansa and she was so good with them. Jaime hoped that in time, she might heal enough to try again.

Things were easy between Jon and Jaime now, which was a huge relief. Jon mentioned that Davos spotted some orcas in the straight and wondered if Jaime had taken Sansa out on a tour yet.

"No, but I will. Thanks." It would be another great date day for them, and Jaime knew Sansa would love to see them. They were incredible to see.

Jon smiled back, and they did that half-man hug/back slap thing that guys did.

Eventually, the library emptied, and Sansa snuggled into his arms.

"Hello, lover. What's up?"

Gods, Jaime loved that – loved that sense of connection he had with her. He finally belonged somewhere in this world.

"I spoke with Brienne this morning," he told her and saw her eyes widen.

Another Sansa ‘perk' was that she just got it, got him. She understood him. They shared everything. She knew the Brienne stuff had weighed heavily on his mind, and yet, she'd never pushed him to 'make things right' before he was ready.

Jaime appreciated that about Sansa and returned the favour. Each one of them was supportive of the other without being demanding.

"How did it go?"

There was no judgement there – just curiosity and compassion.

He took her hand and led her into her office, seeing that a few people were browsing the stacks before lunchtime. He knew they’d call her if they needed her.

When they were alone, he told her how it went.

"Jaime, that sounds so positive!" she exclaimed.

"It was. It really was. I mean, I don't think things are going to be perfect overnight. And there's more work to be done. But I'm hopeful, Sansa, that she got what I was saying."

Sansa hugged him.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, and Jaime choked up, holding her tighter.

Gods, he'd been searching for this type of love his entire life.

"Sansa, I want to tell my father about us. Tonight. I'd like to call him, and I'd like you two to meet. I'd like him to get to know you," Jaime said suddenly, almost shy.

Jaime had never announced his affair to his father, but he knew that the Great Lion had never been a fan of Cersei's, even when they'd been dating before her marrying Robert. And after the affair started, Jaime knew his father had found out about it. There were no secrets from Tywin Lannister.

Sansa was so different from her, though, that Jaime thought his Dad would like her. And he wanted to shout from the rafters that Sansa was his.

"Oh, wow, that's so cool. I'd like that," Sansa said. "Maybe after dinner tonight, we could call him?"

Eager now and excited to share Sansa with one of the most important people in his life, Jaime readily agreed.

They set up at the kitchen table, each with a glass of wine and made the Facetime call. Jaime had texted his father earlier to tell him he had something to share with him.

"Jaime, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Tywin said.

He was in the study at Casterly Rock, a glass of scotch in hand and glasses perched on his nose. Sansa was staring at the room, which Jaime admitted was impressive. He wondered what she'd think of the rest of the Rock when they went to visit. And gods, did Jaime want to take her there. It wasn’t their home, but it was a part of Jaime and he wanted to show it to Sansa.

"Dad, I have someone I want you to meet. Sansa Stark, this is my father, Tywin Lannister."

Jaime tugged Sansa out of her seat so that she could sit on his lap. She was shy and blushing a bit and gave his father a little smile and a nervous wave.

It was only because Jaime knew his father so well that he saw a slight shock before his father's face warmed.

"Ms. Stark, it is very nice to meet you. I assume you're a resident of Skene."

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

"Um. No. My family is the Starks of Wintertown. Before I moved to Skene, I lived in the Vale and before that, Oldtown for my university."

"And what brought you to Skene?" Tywin asked, curious and probing.

Sansa glanced at Jaime, who rubbed her back.

"Whatever you feel comfortable sharing, love."

Tywin did not miss the endearment, nor the love and the utter devotion in his son's eyes. He also didn't miss how Sansa was gripped Jaime's hand as if he were her everything.

Tywin watched as the stunningly beautiful woman took a deep breath and then looked at him. He saw heartbreak there – the devastation that only came from losing someone precious in her life. Tywin knew that look well – it had stared back at him for nearly thirty-five years. It was clear that Sansa had some deep trauma and pain in her past.

"I moved to Skene to do a research project as part of my doctoral work. I was,” she paused and looked to Jaime, who brushed his lips across hers and gave her a comforting squeeze. “I was a mess when I first got her."

She gave a little self-deprecating laugh, still looking between Jaime and Tywin.

"I'm probably still kind of a mess."

Tywin didn't say anything, but he was laser-focused on this woman. He knew his son's capacity for love and how Jaime seemed to be drawn to broken things. Sansa didn't seem like Cersei, but she could destroy his son all the same if she weren't ready for a relationship. The last thing Tywin wanted to do was see Jaime hurt again.

"I see," was all he said. He saw her spine stiffen as she cocked her head and Tywin saw a fire spark in her eyes. That’s when he knew this woman was nothing like Cersei.

"No, you don't. Sorry. But you don't. And I’m proud of the mess I am. Because I’ve fought like hell to be here, to open myself up to love again.”

Before Tywin could say something, to try to make amends, she just kept on going and Tywin understood why his son was in love with this woman.

“Just over two years ago, I buried my son. He died of cancer, and he didn't even get to see his third birthday. And then, six months after he was dead, I caught my husband cheating on me. So I don't think you see. But Jaime did. Jaime saw how much pain I was in, and he was here for me. And he's been amazing. Your son is the most incredible man I've ever met."

It was undeniable the connection these two had. Even Tywin could see it.

Jaime pulled her closer, feeling her shake.

"Hush, now, my brave Sansa.” Jaime turned to look at his father. “That's enough of the intimidating look, father. Sansa is well aware of who I am, the mistakes I've made. She is also well aware of her journey and the challenges she still faces. Challenges I will be by her side for."

Tywin coughed and tried to loosen up. He could see the love in Jaime's eyes for this woman.

"I love your son, Mr. Lannister. And I know I'm a work in progress. I know I have … quirks," she said, smiling at Jaime, who grinned and stroked her cheek.

"We all have quirks."

Jaime stole a quick kiss and then turned back to his father, seeing Tywin looking slightly stunned.

"Dad, my entire life, I've been searching for this. For this woman, this relationship, this place. I know you're wary, and I understand. I made some poor choices in my life. But Sansa isn't one of them. Sansa is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Tywin nodded, knowing that if he chose not to welcome Sansa into his life, he’d lose Jaime. And that was the last thing he wanted.

"If I may, can I ask what your son's name was, Ms. Stark?"

She smiled and it was both full of love and full of pain. Tywin understood that look far too well.

"His name was Ben. And please, call me Sansa."

Tywin swallowed around the lump in his throat. Ben. She had a son named Ben. A son that had died and yet, here she was, willing to try again. It was more than he’d ever allowed himself after Joanna died.

"Tywin."

She smiled through her tears. "I'd apologize for being weepy, but I wouldn't mean it. I loved my son, Tywin, with my entire heart. I still love him. I fought so hard for him to live. And some days, the grief is still very raw and very deep and very painful.”

It was as if she’d stolen the words and feelings right out from his own broken heart.

"My dear, never apologize for loving with your entire heart. To this day, I find it difficult to speak about my beloved wife."

Tywin paused and then coughed.

"And forgive me for being so bold, or perhaps even overstepping. But I would like to think that perhaps if you and Jaime were meant to find one another, then maybe, if there is something beyond this life, your Ben and my Joanna found each other as well."

Sansa sobbed harder then and managed to say, "Oh god, I hope so. That would be so wonderful. Jaime told me how much she loved children. No one in my family died before him – only grandparents I hardly knew. I don't know what I believe, Tywin, but I like to think that sometimes, things happen as they are meant to be. And I love that idea of Joanna and Ben finding one another."

Tywin sniffed as Jaime wiped away his tears, Sansa still deep on his lap. Eventually, they talked about other things and then she kissed Jaime and left, giving father and son some privacy.

"So you've moved in?" Tywin asked, amused now. The past hour with Sansa had been eye-opening and cathartic and quite frankly, amazing. He'd run the obligatory background check, of course, but there were no real red flags.

"I have. This is not like what I had with Cersei. It's not like anything I've ever had before. Everyone knows about us. It's not a secret. We have friends and jobs and lives here – lives we are living together."

"Hmmm," was all Tywin said, happy for his son but still cautious. It was in his nature.

"Dad, I love this woman." 

Jaime’s voice was almost hard, and it amused Tywin that his son was so willing to defend this woman and their relationship. It boded well for their future. A man should fight for the love of his life.

"And if she can't give you a family? No one would blame her given what's she's been through. But I have to ask, Jaime."

His son's eyes turned dark and fierce. "She is enough. She is everything. If we don't have a family, then we have each other."

Satisfied and proud of his son, Tywin nodded.

"Understood."

Tywin coughed and cleared his throat and then shared some news he had with Jaime – news he would have preferred to keep to himself.

Tywin could see that his son understood the importance of his news immediately and knew that Jaime would do whatever necessary to protect Sansa – to protect the woman he loved. And Tywin would do whatever necessary to protect them both.

When they hung up, Tywin was lost in his head for a few moments. He then rooted through his recycling bin and found the invitation to the big political fundraiser in the North.

Ned Stark, Sansa's father, was hosting an event to kick off Robert Baratheon's bid for Westeros president.

How a man as loathsome as Robert could have any support for such a position was beyond Tywin. But he did. That truth was, all the polls showed that Robert Baratheon could very well take the presidency in November.

Tywin had initially planned on not attending. He hated the Baratheons and what they had done to his son – the role Robert had played in Jaime's fall from grace.

But knowing who Sansa was and what she meant to Jaime, Tywin knew he'd now go to Winterfell. Because like hell, he was letting his son walk into the wolf's den without the Great Lion's protection.

It was time that Tywin Lannister went North.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Jaime and Sansa go to Winterfell, to confront their pasts, and meet each other's families


	25. The First Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jaime travel to Wintertown, and Sansa finally meets Tywin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All
> 
> Sorry for the long wait between chapters.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

* * *

_ Skene – Sansa _

Sansa heard the murmurings of Jaime and his father as she made her way to the small den to check on the peat fire. It was spring, but the nights were still a bit damp and chilly on Skene, and she wanted to snuggle with Jaime in the cozy cottage.

She had a feeling they both might need it. Both of them had come so far – worked so hard to be the people they now were.

Sansa, at twenty-eight, and Jaime at forty-six, were not the same people they had been when they'd gone through what had almost broken them, but somehow they had found their second chance at happiness and love.

Sansa wanted to give Jaime and his father whatever bit of privacy that one could find in the small cottage to let them catch up. The conversation she had with Tywin had been emotional, as most conversations seemed to be these days.

But it was also surprising in so many ways.

Sansa had listened to Harry talk for years about the mighty Tywin Lannister. According to Harry, Tywin was the man that everyone aspired to be. Her sister Arya, who was working on her MBA, even had a healthy respect for Jaime’s father. To those in the world of business and finance, Tywin was practically a god.

She knew that Jaime's father commanded a tremendous amount of respect in the business world. And Sansa knew how wealthy the Lannister family was. Of course, Jaime had rejected all of that to serve the public as a police officer.

Knowing what Sansa did about Tywin, she had been prepared for Jaime's father to be stern and perhaps reserved. She'd been prepared for him to be aloof given how quickly they'd fallen in love and Jaime's horrible history with Cersei.

Sansa imagined that their entire lives, men like Tywin and Jaime had to be wary of people who wanted to use them – either for their wealth, their connections or their influence. While none of that mattered to her, she knew the key would be proving that to Tywin.

What Sansa hadn't expected was the warmth of Tywin when she shared Ben with him, nor for Jaime's father to offer her comfort in the idea of his late wife somehow being with Ben.

It was a truly lovely thought that brought Sansa a shocking amount of comfort. Tywin hadn't been condescending or placating with her grief. Instead, she felt she'd found a kindred spirit – someone who understood that she'd been through something genuinely hellish and didn't expect her to be 'better' right away.

It was … refreshing. Just like Jaime, Tywin had surprised her with the depth of empathy he'd had for her situation.

Sansa was sitting on the couch surfing the internet on her laptop when Jaime appeared. He looked a bit troubled, so Sansa patted the seat beside her.

"What's up?"

He gave a bit of a rueful laugh and shook his head, and Sansa noticed he was wearing mismatched socks. Again. This guy! It was so telling after meeting the very proper and put-together Tywin how Jaime had all these endearing traits.

Jaime took the spot beside her and then kissed her, carding his hands through her hair.

 _He was taking a moment to settle himself,_ Sansa thought, wondering what on earth Tywin had shared with his son after she'd left the room.

"Jaime, what's going on?" Sansa asked, worried that his father disapproved of her.

"What do you know about this big event at Winterfell?" he asked, surprising her. That was not what she had been expecting at all. Sansa had thought, if anything, Tywin might have taken a private moment with Jaime to lecture his son about getting involved with her. After all, Sansa knew she wasn’t a sure bet. She trusted Jaime’s feelings for her, but others might be wary, given her history and his.

But as she thought about what Jaime asked, Sansa frowned, recalling Aya mentioning it the last time they’d spoken.

In all honestly, Sansa didn't pay much attention to things that involved her family and what was happening on the mainland. She had purposely NOT gotten mixed up in all of it. It was a bit selfish and a bit of self-preservation. Sansa had focused on herself and her healing.

Belatedly, she realized that the Winterfell event was some political thing, and dread formed in her stomach as she held Jaime's hand hard.

"Not much," she told him, explaining how much she'd separated herself from her family in the past few years. It wasn't just Ben's death but also his illness. Things like that just hadn't mattered to Sansa for years. Once Ben had gotten sick, all that had mattered was him and his treatments.

"Your father is throwing a massive kick-off event for Robert Baratheon and his bid for president of Westeros. Word on the street is that your father himself might be running for governor of the North."

Sansa shook her head, wanting to deny it. She knew that years ago, her father had been friends with Robert, but after all that awfulness came out about him, Euron, Cersei she couldn’t even fathom her father being involved with Robert.

Surely her father wouldn't be associated with a man like that, would he?

And why on earth hadn't she heard anything about her father wanting to step into the political ring? Sure she wasn't as close with her family s she used to be – but to not know anything about this? That seemed odd to Sansa.

She wanted to deny it, but one look at Jaime's face and she knew it was true.

"And Cersei?" she asked.

Again, Sansa hadn't paid much attention to gossip on the mainland so she had no idea if Robert and Cersei had gone ahead with their divorce.

Jaime gave a weary sigh.

"She stayed with him. According to my father, their camp has been working tirelessly in the past year and a half to repair both of their reputations. Euron ended up going to jail, Robert cut a deal and turned on him, and they've been making the rounds, apparently renewed in their love and commitment to one another."

Sansa heard the bitterness in Jaime’s voice and didn’t blame him in the least. It was awful. She felt like she might be sick, wondering what type of people chose that kind of life.

She pressed closer to Jaime, letting one hand go to the back of his neck as her lips pressed against his.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, empathy strong for Jaime.

He gave a half-smile and then tugged her closer.

"They are vile people, Sansa – power-hungry and craving the spotlight. The longer I'm out of that life, the more I wonder why on earth I stayed for so long. It's not me. It's _never_ been me."

She heard the conviction in his voice, although he didn’t have to convince her. She knew Jaime. That had never been him.

If there was one truth that Jaime could cling to, it was that. From the time he'd been a young man, he'd outright rejected the socially ambitious world that men like his father occupied.

"I know, my love," she said and watched as Jaime relaxed, nodding at her.

"You know what this means, right?"

Sansa nodded. It meant that Jaime's ex would be in the North. At her family's event. An event that Sansa was expected to attend.

"I do know what this means."

"Are you going?" he asked quietly, and Sansa couldn't quite read him.

Did he want her not to go? Because she would – in a heartbeat. If Jaime wanted her to cancel and stay on Skene with him, she would. It wouldn't even be a choice, and she told him that.

"I'm expected to attend, but I can cancel. I will cancel if that is what you need. You come first, Jaime.” She meant it – every word.

His eyes were intense, rimmed with gold as he swallowed hard. "You would, wouldn't you?"

Sansa cupped his cheek and stroked. "Of course, my love. Jaime, you're my everything. We're barnacles, remember."

That seemed to relax him, and he settled a bit, tugging her closer. Sansa snuggled into his chest, loving being held by him, as he brushed his lips against her forehead. They were quiet for a time, and Sansa knew Jaime was thinking about what he’d just learned. She had no problem giving him time to work through things. Sometimes a person just needed quiet.

"My father is coming to the event," Jaime eventually said as Sansa gazed at him.

“Good,” Sansa said, meaning it.

Jaime's hand was rubbing her back. Sansa had never heard of Tywin ever attending one of her parents' fundraiser's in the North. She knew Tywin was coming North to support his son, and it made her feel good that Jaime had more than just her in his corner.

"How does it make you feel that they will be in Wintertown?"

Jaime sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Conflicted, to be honest," he said. "I mean, I can't avoid her, or them, forever. And there is a part of me that would rather see her on my terms."

"That's fair," Sansa said. "I'll be there. By your side," she added, perhaps unnecessarily. "And so will your father. You're not alone, Jaime."

Jaime's smile was everything, his eyes crinkling.

"I know, my darling. Gods, that's what makes me realize I can do this. You and my father will be there, beside me."

Sansa nodded but held his gaze.

"But I can also understand if you want to skip it. I understand if you want to stay on Skene. And if you need me here, I will cancel, Jaime."

This man had gone to the wall for her, and Sansa would do the same for him. His hand came up to stroke her cheek, wonder in his eyes.

"I love you," he said, and Sansa smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“I love you. We've got some time," she said, knowing that it was a couple of weeks away, so they could still back out if they wanted.

Jaime nodded, and then his lips were back on hers, and they pushed the idea of Wintertown and vicious exes from their mind, content to be with one another.

"I need you," he murmured, and Sansa understood that need. She reached for her top, tugging it off, comfortable with making love with Jaime here on this lumpy couch.

As if he read her mind, he grinned, cupping a lace-covered breast, thumbing her nipple into a peak. Sansa arched into his touch. This man was everything to her.

"I'm not taking you here," he muttered, somehow scooping her into his arms as Sansa clung to him.

She let out a breathy sigh, often forgetting how strong Jaime was. He was deceptive like that. Tall and fit, leanly muscled, and in fantastic shape, it was nothing for him to carry her up the stairs.

Night had fallen, so after he placed her on their bed, he lit a few of the candles she had scattered around the room, setting the mood. Sansa adored him for it.

When he turned back to her, she saw the raw emotion on his face, what had been dragged up for him in the past few hours.

"Come here, love," she said, waving him over.

When he got to the bed, Sansa rose on her knees and captured her lips against his, holding his face to hers.

"You are so loved, Jaime," she told him and heard a pained sigh escape his lips before he deepened the kiss, carding his hands through her hair, demanding more.

Sansa had an endless well to give to this man, and let him feast, to dictate their lovemaking and the pace in which he needed her.

There was something so primal and raw between them, as they'd stripped themselves down to their most basic parts, time and again, unwilling to hide in shadows and lies. They'd exposed the rot in their life to one another and healed together.

This was just one more step on that journey, and Sansa would be by Jaime's side each step of the way.

She felt him mark her with his short stubble and lips, as his mouth sucked a bruise into her neck. Her pale skin would bear the loving marks he bestowed upon her tomorrow, and she'd wear them proudly.

They were survivors, both of them and they’d found one another. When he finally entered her, their eyes were locked, hands joined as they moved as one, no words needed. This was beyond that – this was their souls connecting on a level Sansa barely knew existed before this moment. She knew that she belonged to Jaime as she had never belonged to anyone in her life.

"Beloved, my Sansa," he crooned, and she knew he felt it as well. No matter what happened to them, what life threw at them, what hardships and setbacks they might face, they knew they would do so together.

"My heart, my Jaime," she whispered back and then let him take them both up and over, their peaks stealing their breaths, as they crashed together, wrapped up in one another, content to ride the storm out, in each other's arms, knowing that this was all that they'd ever wanted.

They fought hard for this second chance at happiness and love and they wouldn’t let anyone take it away from them.

As sleep came over her, Sansa felt Jaime's lips press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Sansa," he whispered. She had enough presence of mind to mumble back, "I love you, Jaime Lannister. Now go to sleep, my love, for I will be here tomorrow."

She swore she felt his grin as his arms banded around her, holding her close, hearts beating together, as one.

* * *

_ Wintertown – Sansa _

Sansa glanced at Jaime as he expertly handled their hotel arrangements at the premier hotel in Wintertown. It had been an eye-opening experience to travel with him. She'd fallen in love with Jaime Lannister, Chief of Police on the island of Skene. A man who wore mismatched socks, had a sheep that adored him and was a great friend to those on the island.

But travelling to Wintertown had been a reminder that they had entire lives before they'd both ended up at the far reaches of Westeros.

This Jaime that she’d travelled with, showed hints of Jaime Lannister that was the son of the wealthiest man in Westeros. Not that Jaime was snobby or demanding or rude. But he did require a certain … level of comfort when he'd travelled, including first-class seats on the plane from Skagos to Wintertown and now, a very expensive hotel.

And he'd insisted on taking charge of their travel arrangements and accommodations. It had been years since someone had cared for Sansa in such a way, and she liked it, finding it endearing and loving and not at all oppressive. Jaime was utterly adorable as he made sure everything was 'just right' for them. Watching Jaime operate in the real world had been fun, as he seemed to make it his life mission to ensure everything was perfect for their little trip.

If anything, travelling together had only reinforced just how compatible and in love they were. At twenty-eight, Sansa had finally found the love of her life – a man she knew would be by her side through all the ups and downs life threw at a person.

As Sansa watched Jaime banter with the clerk, she thought back to how they had ended up here.

Jaime had taken a few days to think about the event in Wintertown, and in the end, he decided that not only did he want Sansa to attend, but he wanted to be by her side.

She was proud of him, taking control of the situation. He could have begged off, stayed on Skene or even asked her not to attend. But he'd decided he wanted to get this first encounter with his ex over within an environment he controlled to a degree. Sansa understood completely. Sometimes, you had to draw a line in the stand and just do what made you uncomfortable.

It wouldn't be easy, but Sansa knew that it would be another vital step in his healing journey.

A part of Sansa was excited to bring Jaime home, introduce him to her family, and have him become even more integrated into her life. They hadn't discussed what would happen when his two years were up on Skene, but wherever they ended up, Sansa knew they would be together. And part of being together, was meeting each other’s families.

And she could admit, there was a part of her that was itching to come to Wintertown if only to confront her parents and to demand to know why on earth they supported a man like Robert Baratheon. His opponent was someone named Jon Connington, who seemed much more suitable for the top position.

Now she couldn't help but let her eyes widened as Jaime slid the black credit card across the elegant hotel desk and demanded the second-best suite in the place.

Sansa snorted.

"Only second?"

Jaime gave her a droll look. "If you think my father won't have the penthouse, well, you don't know Tywin Lannister."

Sansa let the laugh come, shaking her head at the man she loved. She'd left Jaime in charge of their travel arrangements, and it had been first class all the way. It appeared that Jaime was a man that liked to spoil the woman he was with, and Sansa didn't mind the attention he paid to make things nice for them both.

They'd had a brief talk on the plane about money – Sansa reassuring Jaime that she was by no means a pauper and that she'd done well, very well, in her divorce, along with a healthy trust fund.

Jaime had been delighted with her and then confessed that he'd never had to work a day in his life, being the eldest son of Tywin Lannister. It made it even more impressive that Jaime had chosen the career he had. He indeed was a man that lived to help others.

While Sansa knew they didn't have the same amount in their bank accounts, they were on far more equal terms than she and Harry ever had been, and Sansa was comfortable with Jaime's wealth. He didn't flaunt it, but she appreciated he liked the finer things when he travelled.

A short time later, Jaime was nuzzling her neck as the elevator whisked them to the floor right below the penthouse – a floor that had three well-appointed suites. Jaime mumbled a bit about not having the best, but there was no way that Sansa wanted to share the penthouse with his father.

Watching Jaime operate in this world, it was clear he was comfortable with this level of wealth, and for a brief moment, Sansa couldn't help but compare Jaime to Harry. Her ex-husband would have been drooling at how effortlessly Jaime fit into this world, continually striving for it himself. Status was far more critical to Harry than it ever had been to Sansa, which just made it all the more ironic that she'd ended up with Jaime – a man that had all the status in the world but didn't seem to crave it at all.

For now, though, she let Jaime show her the suite, which was one of the nicest places Sansa had ever stayed and then talk her into bed, knowing they had a few hours before they were meeting his father for dinner and needing to reconnect with one another after their journey from Skene.

* * *

_ Wintertown – Jaime _

Jaime pressed a soft kiss to Sansa's shoulder as they lay in the big king bed. They had a first-rate view of the downtown core from where the bed was, and Sansa was content to lounge in her lover's arms. He heard her contented hum, loving how she turned and smiled at him. They had agreed to only a weekend in Wintertown, both of them knowing that this was anything but a vacation.

It was decidedly odd being off of Skene. When Jaime had been all but banished there, he'd thought the island to be his own personal hell.

How was he to know what awaited him on that small spit of land? A journey unlike any he'd ever been on. He'd found the love of his life there, his second chance and all those wonderful, meddling friends. Sure, there had been bumps and setbacks. But leaving Skene had put everything into perspective for him.

At forty-six, Jaime was so close to having the life he'd always craved.

He loved it on Skene. He wanted to build a life with Sansa on the island. He wanted to be around their friends and their neighbours. He wanted pub nights at Bronn's place and lemon day at Mayra's café. He wanted to buy art from Dacey and go whale watching with Davos. He wanted to talk to Maege and see if they could expand the cottage where they currently lived. He wanted to ask Sandor if there might be a lamb that wanted a home with him.

And he wanted all of that with the woman in his arms. He wanted a life on Skene with Sansa.

He knew there was still work to do with some of the meddlers. Things weren’t perfect, but they were pretty darn good, and being off-island only highlighted how much he missed Skene.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

Jaime smiled softly at her, capturing her lips. "Skene."

Her warm laughter settled something inside of him. "Yeah? Realizing how awesome it is now that we're off the island?"

"Something like that," he said, tugging her closer, loving how she sprawled out across his chest so he could run his hand down the smooth skin of her back, revelling in having her like this. They had both come so far, trusted in each other and what they felt, and he was proud of them both.

Jaime knew this weekend would be hellish for the both of them. Sansa had her issues with her family, and he had his issues with Cersei. But they had one another, and when they were done, they had Skene and their farmhouse and the life that they'd build for themselves there.

Sansa propped herself up on an elbow, her hair making a curtain around them as she gave him a mischievous grin. Gods, he loved this woman.

"Who would have ever thought that Jaime Lannister would find everything he wanted on a tiny island in the Shivering Sea in the far North of Westeros?"

He gave a rueful laugh. "I'll give you that. My father is going to be floored."

Jaime had tried to explain his father to Sansa. She was aware of him, partially through her ex-husband and partially because you had to live under a rock not to know who Tywin Lannister was. Sansa's sister was angling for a coveted internship with the Great Lion to complete her MBA. Jaime was hoping to broker an introduction between Arya and Tywin this weekend. So Sansa was well aware of his father's reputation.

Harder to explain was the nuances of Tywin Lannister. He was a powerful and wealthy man – demanding and, at times, cold. But he loved Jaime, and his support had never wavered through the scandal and beyond.

There was a part of Jaime, a part he was perhaps not entirely proud of, that was … interested to see how his father would handle Cersei and Robert. His father had stayed out of the entire mess when it had blown up in Jaime's face, only because Jaime had begged him not to interfere. Back then, he'd been far too embarrassed about his exceedingly poor choices to want the mighty Tywin Lannister to fight his battles.

But this was different.

Tywin had been invited to this event to lend his name and influence to Robert as the presidential candidate. Tywin was, for lack of a better term, a modern-day kingmaker. Whichever candidate he publicly endorsed, well, that person might as well make plans to move into the Red Keep.

This meant that both Cersei and Robert knew that they had to kiss Tywin's ass if they wanted Robert to have any chance at the presidency. It was shockingly bold of them to think that Tywin might ever support Robert, but Jaime knew they were both narcissistic enough to think that Tywin might.

He doubted either one of them genuinely had taken any responsibility for their actions or could even see what they had done that was wrong. They were incredibly vain and shallow people that craved attention and power.

And, as Jaime was here as a guest of Sansa, he knew that neither Robert nor Cersei would be expecting him.

"What is that brain thinking?" Sansa asked, smoothing out a wrinkle on his forehead.

He nibbled at her finger, watching the blush he loved stain her cheeks, before he shared his thoughts, ending with, "I'm afraid this might all blow up horribly in our faces."

There was a part of Jaime that couldn't see his father passing up an opportunity to payback Robert and Cersei for what they'd done to him.

Of all the reactions Jaime was expecting, a delighted giggle wasn't one of them.

"Sansa?"

She gave a careless shrug.

"Honestly, I'm not sure it's going to take until Saturday night at the gala for everything to blow up. We're having dinner with my family tomorrow, Jaime, and trust me when I say things are tense and only going to get worse."

"How do you figure?"

Her eyes flashed, and he saw her mad was up, which Jaime had to admit, was incredibly attractive on her. Mostly because he thought it might have something to do with supporting him. Jaime. For so long, Jaime had thought he'd never be worthy of a woman like Sansa's love and forgiveness. But as she liked to remind him – they were barnacles. Each other's barnacles. They stuck.

"How on earth could my father endorse a man like Robert Baratheon?"

Jaime's eyes widened as he realized that Sansa wanted to confront her family on their political affiliations. Perhaps he should tell her not to, but Robert was a vile human being, and Jaime had no idea why anyone would want to be associated with him. He was lazy, took kickbacks and was a known womanizer. The man was a pig, through and through.

So why on earth was Ned Stark, arguably one of the most incorruptible men in all of Westeros, willing to back him?

"My fierce woman," Jaime said, tugging Sansa closer and kissing her hard. He loved how she wrapped her body around his and held on.

"It's not right, Jaime. And things are already tense between my family and me, so this won't help. But I'm done being silent and uninformed."

He chuckled. "We can be outcasts on Skene together."

She laughed as well. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too, darling. Me too."

Because Jaime knew, no matter what happened this weekend, he would always have Sansa.

* * *

A few hours later, Jaime escorted Sansa into an elegant restaurant in Wintertown. She told him it was one of the premier ones in the North, which Jaime did not doubt, knowing his father's taste. It was a Thursday night, and the place was packed, but the hostess soon showed them to the best table in the house, where Jaime saw his father was waiting for them.

It had been over a year since Jaime had last seen his father, and Tywin was still the imposing man he remembered. Still, as he rose, his bespoke suit absolutely perfect even at 8 pm, Jaime saw the warmth come into his father's eyes. It was apparent that Tywin was looking forward to this dinner.

"Jaime, Sansa, welcome," he said, embracing his son and then kissing both of Sansa's cheeks.

She blushed, which was adorable, as Jaime held out her chair. Once they were seated, the two Lannisters took a moment to assess the other.

"You're looking well," Tywin finally decreed, noting that Jaime hadn't let go of Sansa's hand.

"You as well, father," Jaime responded, noting it was true. There was a tan to Tywin's skin and a sparkle in his eye, and Jaime knew the man had come North to do battle.

The waiter approached them, and Jaime sat back, content to let his father order wine and a few appetizers, after checking with what Sansa might like. When they were alone again, Tywin sipped his water, assessing them both. Jaime laid a hand on Sansa's knee and squeezed it, and she smiled at him, warm and loving.

"I am well. I will admit, I had my reservations when they banished you to that wretched island, but it seems like Skene agrees with you."

Sansa snicked. "Has Jaime told you about Buttercup?"

"The sheep?" Tywin said, warming to her immediately. She nodded and leaned forward, delighted to share Jaime and Buttercup stories, making both Lannister men laugh.

"The funniest thing is that I think she's jealous of me," Sansa said, as Jaime winked and nodded.

"Oh, you have got the right of it there, love. She's a jealous thing, always giving you the side-eye and baa'ing at you."

"But she's a dear, and the lambs are so precious."

"They are. Sandor guards them like a mother hen guards her eggs," Jaime responded, which sent Sansa into a fit of giggles.

"Oh gods, he loves those chickens, always calling them _his ladies_."

Jaime was so busy smiling at Sansa that he had all but forgotten about his father. Only when his father coughed did they turn back to him, apologizing.

"So, how did you two meet?" Tywin asked, and Jaime and Sansa exchanged a knowing look.

"Do you want to tell him darling, or shall I?" Jaime asked.

Sansa rolled her eyes at him but took a fortifying sip of wine and levelled a look at the senior Lannister.

"Let's just say that when I heard about Jaime, I allowed his reputation to colour my judgement of him. It was wrong of me. He's nothing like what the press made him out to be."

"No, he's not," Tywin agreed, and his support warmed something inside of Jaime.

"In fairness, I made poor choices in the company I kept. And Sansa wasn't entirely at fault. Our friends on the island thought we'd be well-matched, and they … attempted to help us find our way to one another."

Tywin arched an elegant eyebrow at that.

"A winter storm blew in, and Jaime came to check on my cottage – to make sure I had extra peat and fuel for the generator and enough food," Sansa explained.

Jaime swore his father's mouth dropped open. "You know how to do that?"

Sansa laughed again as their waiter appeared and offered them the specials of the night. Sansa chose fish, Jaime the steak and Tywin chicken. When they were once again alone, with more wine and their first course, Jaime picked up the story of the storm. He left some details out – things that were private and just between him and Sansa. But his father, brilliant man that he was, picked up on the meddling.

"And you're still friends with these people?" Tywin asked, outraged.

Sansa gave a small shrug. "There are less than 900 people on the entire island. And they mean well. They messed up big time, but Jaime and I are working on forgiving them. We love Skene," she added.

Tywin looked almost shell-shocked as Jaime wrapped an arm around Sansa and pulled her closer.

"Dad, I know it's wild and hard to imagine, but it's home. It's what I've been searching for. These people, they care. We have a life there and a community that we are part of. We love our life there."

Tywin shook his head and gulped wine, clearly gathering his thoughts. His green-gold eyes pinned Sansa.

"You know who I am. You know the wealth and power my family commands. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that this is enough? Some rundown farmhouse where you … what? Play house?"

Jaime let out a little warning growl but held his tongue when he saw Sansa's spine straighten. He'd seen her go toe to toe with the meddlers on Skene and now she was prepared to do battle against the mighty Tywin Lannister. It was stunning, and Jaime loved her so damn much.

"I was married to an ambitious man once before, Mr. Lannister – a man that when our son got sick, thought it more important to stay in the Eyrie at his job than spend every precious moment with a sick little boy. Since then, I’ve learned what really matters in this world. And I've fought every single day to find my way back to some sort of happiness. And some days are still harder than others."

She paused, and Jaime brushed his lips across her cheek, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"We're barnacles, remember my love."

Her smile was brilliant as she gazed back at him before finally turning back to his father.

"I never knew if I'd ever be strong enough to take a chance on love again. On perhaps, having another child. I never knew if I would want that or heal enough to give myself that opportunity. Our life on Skene is so much more than just 'playing house.' It's everything Jaime and I have ever wanted. We want to be loved and love someone in return. We want to belong to that person. And we want to build a life together. We don't need your permission or your approval. But do not ever diminish or mock what we've both fought so hard to find. I won't let you make us feel like less because our dreams are different than yours."

Jaime brought her hand to his lips and kissed it before his eyes went hard, and he pinned his father with a look.

"I've given you some latitude because I know you are worried about me and the choices I make when I fall in love. Sansa is nothing like Cersei. This relationship is nothing like that one. I'm happy on Skene. I'm so in love with this woman that I can barely see straight some days. I won't allow you to cross-examine her or undermine what we've found. I want you to be part of the life we've made there. But if you won't, or can't, that will not stop us from returning to Skene and building a life together."

Tywin coughed and set down a napkin, steepling his hands as he gazed at the two of them.

"I am sorry if I made either one of you feel like your choice to remain on Skene was somehow less. I know the two of you have not had an easy road in this life. All I've ever wanted for you, Jaime, is to be happy. I can see the love you have for this woman and the love she has for you. You two are a team – you support one another."

"We do," they said, almost as one, and Tywin gave them a warm smile.

"My dears, you have my full support. All I ask is that when I come and visit, the farm animals are kept at a safe distance."

Sansa's smile was brilliant as Jaime processed his father's words.

"You want to come to Skene?" Jaime asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Well, not immediately. Your current accommodations sound … quaint. I will require something … more," Tywin smirked.

Jaime's mouth dropped open as Tywin just continued to speak.

"I'd imagine you have significant savings, Jaime, and if you were to sell your place in King's Landing, that would give you enough capital to build something appropriate on Skene not only for when I visit but for your future," Tywin said.

Sansa let out a hearty laugh, shaking her head at the Great Lion as she took a healthy sip of wine.

Her eyes were positively dancing.

"I cannot wait for you to meet my little sister, Tywin. She's got a love/hate thing going on with you, but she's a firecracker, and she's angling for an internship at your company."

Jaime saw the spark of interest in his father's face at that pronouncement.

"That is a coveted position, Sansa, only given to the best and brightest."

Sansa nodded and proceeded to tell Tywin all about her younger sister, as well as more stories about life on Skene. Their dinner came, then dessert and finally, espresso and scotch until it was close to midnight and both Jaime and Sansa were slightly buzzed. Tywin was indeed staying at the same hotel as they were, and the night was warm enough for the North, so the three of them walked back together.

Sansa had thoroughly charmed Tywin, and his father kept sending him approving looks. When they got back to the hotel lobby, Tywin bid them goodnight and went to the private elevator to the penthouse suite while Sansa and Jaime, still holding hands, waited for their elevator. Sansa was snuggled up against him, giggling softly.

"Your dad is a riot, Jaime. He's so intense, but he cares so much. It's wild," she whispered.

Jaime gave a bit of a rueful laugh, thankful Sansa had like his father. He wasn’t an easy man to get along with.

Tomorrow they had a big Stark family dinner, followed by the Saturday night political fundraiser. Tonight had just been the first foray into the family. But despite a few rocky moments, Jaime thought it had gone over well between Sansa and his father. He still couldn't quite believe that his father would visit Skene, but if Tywin Lannister said he was going to do something, he always followed through.

When they got back to their suite, they went through their nightly absolutions, and within half an hour, Jaime had Sansa in his arms, his back to the walls of windows that would have shown downtown Winterfell had he cared to keep them open. But he didn't. Because this place was just a stopover.

Their life, their future, was on Skene. Together.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> The Starks meet Jaime and the political fundraiser happens


	26. The Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa have dinner with Sansa’s family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to preface this chapter with the reminder that this story is about redemption and forgiveness. There are SOME truly awful people in this story but the Starks are not those people. Sansa’s grief was overwhelming and created issues between her and her family. In my experience, most families are not prepared for the death of a child and the impact that has - a lasting impact. 
> 
> I hope, with that in mind, you enjoy this chapter. I really loved it. 
> 
> I really wanted both Sansa and Jaime to get to a good, healthy place where their relationships start to mend and people start to come back together.

* * *

_ Wintertown – Sansa _

She was admittedly nervous as they got ready for their dinner with her family. The dinner was at her family's impressive mansion, named Winterfell. 

Sansa recalled the first time she'd brought Harry home, what felt like ages ago, and his eyes had gone wide before he'd assumed a casual arrogance as if he were used to such a place. Ironically, the one man in all of Westeros who might not be intimidated by the Stark family mansion was Jaime Lannister. Harry had always aspired for that life, which was funny considering where Jaime and Sansa had ended up – in a cottage on Skene with farm animals for company.

Harry would be truly appalled at her current living arrangements, which gave Sansa a perverse sort of satisfaction, because she was anything but. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was making the best choice for herself – and that was incredibly freeing.

As Sansa thought of Winterfell, she glanced at her lover. Jaime had grown up at an even larger and stately home than she had, so Winterfell itself wouldn't intimidate him. But her family might. Both of them would have to face down the somewhat unfair reputation her guy had. It was just part of being with Jaime, and Sansa was determined to be by his side – to show him the support she knew he’d earned.

As she applied her makeup, she thought back to the pleasant day she'd spent with Jaime and his father.

Spring in the North could be temperamental, but they'd been gifted with a perfect day. They'd had breakfast in the penthouse suite with Tywin, who warmed even more to her, asking additional questions about Skene. Sansa was delighted to share about the puffins, the ruins, the whales and the people. Skene was a truly magical place and it was her home. Coming off the island, Sansa now understood the deep attachment she’d formed to the tiny island, and how much she wanted a life there. 

Jaime explained how important summer solstice was, how different the island was during the spring and summer months, and how he liked it when the calendar flipped over to October, and the island once again belonged to the locals. Nobody missed how Jaime considered himself one of the locals.

Tywin had snorted at that, shaking his head.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you gave up King's Landing for rural life, but it seems to suit you." It was a typical Tywin Lannister comment, but there was no censure in his tone, and Sansa could see the genuine affection Tywin held for his son.

Sansa had been able to share her research project with Tywin, who was openly interested in it. Sansa learned that Jaime’s father was fascinated with the history of Westeros and he encouraged her to write her dissertation, with an air of authority that just seemed natural on him.

"Even if you never use it, never work in the world of academia, it's an accomplishment and one you should be proud of, my dear," he'd said.

Jaime had shot her a wink, and Sansa promised she'd think about it. Tywin’s words resonated and Sansa wasn’t a person that liked to leave things undone. It would be an accomplishment, to get her doctorate, even if she never taught or used it. Perhaps it was something just for her – and that would be enough.

After breakfast, Sansa had taken Jaime on a walking tour of downtown, playing tourist with her lover in the city where she'd been born and raised. It was fun in a way she hadn't been expecting, and they'd found the cutest little shops and a delightful restaurant for lunch, enjoying themselves and the perfect spring day they’d been gifted with.

Sansa picked up presents for their friends back on Skene – she found a little hen timer that she thought would be perfect for Sandor’s kitchen, a book of knitting patterns for Jeyne, and a suncatcher for Mayra’s café. Sansa even found the cutest goat oven mitts which she bought, for Val. Perhaps a peace offering.

In the afternoon, they'd returned to their hotel, where they'd made love slowly in the soft afternoon light, before napping in each other's arms, almost as if stealing those peaceful moments between themselves, knowing that the rest of the weekend would be difficult.

As Sansa worked the mascara wand, she tried to imagine what she wanted to accomplish tonight. She could admit that she'd been … disengaged from her family for years. Sansa understood that not all the issues with her family were the fault of the Starks. Some of it, maybe most of it, was her and her grief, the intense pain that she'd felt from losing her child.

She wouldn’t apologize for what she’d done to survive losing Ben. But she could acknowledge her role in how uneasy things were with her family. Her deep grief made it awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at other times.

Sansa knew vaguely that Robb, her father's heir, worked in the Stark family business. His marriage to Margaery Tyrell was looked at as 'advantageous' by her socially ambitious mother. Robb was thirty, and Marg twenty-nine and they'd been married for three years now. There was no part of Sansa that wanted to either work for her family or live in Wintertown, so she had no issues with Robb being tapped to run her father's company. That was fine for those in that world, but that had never been Sansa's goal in this life so there was no animosity there. And in her more charitable moments, Sansa loved that Robb and Marg had found one another.

Sansa and Arya were close and her two youngest brothers were fine.

What she was struggling with was her father's sudden interest in not only politics but in publicly supporting Robert Baratheon.

No one in her family, other than Arya, knew that Sansa was dating Jaime Lannister. Sansa had always known that when she'd brought Jaime home, her family would have questions. Neither her nor Jaime would blame them or begrudge them those questions, and both had been prepared for them. Jaime’s reputation, their age difference and how quickly they’d fallen in love would all need to be addressed.

But now?

Knowing that her father was throwing a massive event for a truly despicable man, Sansa couldn't wrap her mind around the why of it.

Was it just their friendship from when they'd been mates in university that her father was clinging to?

Had Robert somehow convinced Ned that he wasn't the awful man he was?

That worried Sansa. And more, what had been said about Jaime to her parents?

Ned and Catelyn had met when they were twenty-one, been married at twenty-two and welcomed Robb when they were twenty-four. Her parents were only eight years older than Jaime, so she knew their age difference MIGHT be an issue.

If that wasn't enough, there was also Jaime's reputation that more than proceeded him. Sansa was well aware that it was something they would both have to deal with. She was prepared for that. She knew the type of man Jaime was. She knew he regretted the decisions he'd made. He was so much more than what the media had portrayed him to be. Sansa was willing to defend Jaime and her love for him to whoever might have an issue with him.

Sansa had wanted a chance to ease her family into her relationship, but she had a feeling that it was a 'rip the band-aid off' kind of situation instead. Especially if Robert had somehow given his version of the story before Jaime had a chance to explain his choices.

Sansa thought one of Jaime's most admirable qualities was how he took ownership of the poor choices he had made and what they had cost him. He never shirked his role in the entire affair.

But Sansa doubted Robert would paint a fair picture.

As if he sensed her inner thoughts, Jaime dropped a kiss to her neck as he came to stand beside her. Sansa had wound her hair up in an elegant knot, choosing to wear a shimmery black top and grey dress pants tonight. Somehow, his presence was enough to ease the butterflies in her stomach. No matter what happened tonight, Sansa had found the love of her life.

"Love, it will be fine. I'm used to people judging me first and giving me a chance second," Jaime said, giving her a somewhat sardonic smile.

She reached for his hand, keeping him there, standing behind her as they looked into the mirror. She took a moment to settle herself as she viewed them as a couple.

On the outside, she knew they were both beautiful people. There was no denying how handsome Jaime was, and these past few months on Skene, Sansa had started to put on some much-needed weight, looking healthier than she had in years.

Jaime was wearing grey trousers, a black shirt, no tie and a leather jacket. His blond hair was artfully styled, and he had an expensive watch on his wrist.

She knew their clothing choices were deliberate – an attempt to demonstrate without words that they were together. She inhaled deeply, smelling that signature Jaime scent, and he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her midsection, anchoring her body to his.

"I don't want them to reject you. Or be mean to you without giving you a chance to defend yourself," she said, locking eyes with Jaime in the mirror.

He chuckled softly.

"Well, love, I'm not sure we can control other people's reactions – especially when it comes to some of my choices. All we can do is speak from the heart about what we feel for one another. And I love you, Sansa. Deeply. Wholly. Reverently. For the rest of my life, my heart is yours."

 _Gods, this man_. He made her romantic heart race, reigniting all those dreams she'd thought had turned to ashes when her life had imploded. He'd given her back hope, which had been sorely lacking in her life for so long.

Sansa reached a hand up to cup his cheek, letting the depth of how much she loved him show.

"You are my heart, Jaime," she whispered, delighted when his eyes warmed and danced in the light.

"And you are mine. We are each other's second chance at happiness, Sansa. Tonight, tomorrow – these won't be easy events to get through. But in the end, we have one another," he said, as Sansa nodded, her face going fierce.

She had fought so hard to get to this point, and she would not let anyone do anything to come between her and Jaime and the life they were building together.

"Were you serious about staying on Skene?" she asked him.

She knew that he'd been struggling with his decision.

Jaime nodded.

"I am. I will have to go back to King's Landing and get things sorted. And it might be harder to think about leaving when I'm faced with my old mates and the work we do. I know I'm making a difference when I'm working there. But I also recognize that I was never really happy there."

Sansa turned then, so they were facing one another.

"Well, you won't be alone. I can come with you to King's Landing. I'd imagine it will take some time to sort our life. According to your father, I'll need to defend my dissertation. You'll have to close down your flat in King's Landing and wrap things up with your old job. I also think your father invited us to Casterly Rock. But the best part of all of this is we have time, Jaime and a home base."

Sansa saw his shoulders relax, and he nodded.

"Plus, we have to build a proper home for your father to come to visit."

"Good thing I'm rich."

He wiggled those damn eyebrows, sending her a sexy smirk.

She threw her head back and laughed and slipped her hand into his, knowing that whatever happened, they would be alright.

"Alright, Richey-rich, let's go and get this over with," Sansa said, shaking her head at him and delighted by just how far they had both come.

* * *

_Winterfell- Sansa_

Jaime whistled and gave her a knowing look when they pulled up to the impressive Stark mansion named Winterfell forty minutes later.

"This is an extraordinary home, Sansa," he said, taking in the soaring roofline of the striking stone and log mansion.

It was a custom build that had taken years to perfect and had two full wings in addition to the main house. To Sansa, it had always been home, and she had mostly fond memories of Winterfell – including some with Ben. But she knew for so many people, Winterfell was intimidating.

"After Ben was born, we came here a lot. We spent lots of time with my family in the North because I was on mat leave, and it just felt right to be here, surrounded by family," Sansa explained to Jaime.

"Where was your husband?" he asked, wondering what type of man didn't take time with his family.

Sansa sighed.

"Harry was very focused on his career. In some of my more reflective moments, I feel sorry for him. I got so much time with Ben – I have so many good memories. Harry doesn't. It's his loss, and I wonder how it affected him."

Jaime said nothing but held her hand, letting her deal with her memories so bittersweet.

"Ben loved Winterfell. My parents have dogs, huskies, and he loved animals, so that was a highlight. Since he was the first grandbaby and nephew, everyone doted upon him. He loved coming to Winterfell – it was his happy place."

Jaime said nothing, although Sansa could see the effect her words had on him.

"When you're ready," he said after she took a few deep breaths.

Nodding, Sansa reached for the door, stopped only by a look from Jaime.

"Darling, let me."

He winked at her and sent her a smouldering smile, and Sansa felt herself settle. Such was the power of Jaime Lannister. When he opened her door, he drew her into his arms, brushing his lips softly across her cheek, then down to the shell of her ear, as his large hand went to her back, drawing her close to him.

"Remember, love; we're barnacles."

Sansa let out an anxious little sigh, so grateful for this man. Slipping her hand into his, she strode with what she hoped was a confidence she didn't feel to the front door and rang the bell.

 _How odd that she no longer felt she could just walk into this house_ _where she had grown up_ , she thought, as she waited for someone to answer the door.

When the door opened, it was her father standing there. Ned Stark's eyes lit when he saw her before frowning as he took in the man standing beside her. It was clear that Jaime needed no introduction if the scowl on Ned's face was anything to go by. Her father clearly knew who Jaime was.

Still, to his credit, Ned stepped back and gestured them inside.

"Sansa, welcome home," her father said.

There was a real warmth and love in her father's voice, and Sansa felt her breath hitch. Gods, things felt so complicated with her family. She knew they loved her, but their grief over Ben's death and how to manage her pain had been too much for all of them. It had created a chasm that she'd been unable to bridge.

But maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to make things a bit easier between all of them.

"Hi, Dad. I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jaime Lannister. Jaime, my father, Ned Stark."

Sansa held onto Jaime's hand hard, needing her father to know that this was the man she had chosen.

Ned didn't stop scowling at Jaime, and Sansa had to give Jaime credit; he rested his hand on her back and stepped closer to her, smiling at her Dad. To anyone else, Jaime would appear at ease, but Sansa knew that her guy was tense.

"Ned Stark, I'm delighted to meet you finally," Jaime said, holding out his hand, which Ned reluctantly shook.

Sansa sighed, but before she could try to diffuse the situation, her Mother appeared, perfectly coifed and with a frown on her face.

"Sansa, Ned, what is going on?"

"Sansa brought a date," Ned grumbled, and Sansa watched her Mother's eyes widen as Catelyn's breath actually caught, and she fluttered a hand in front of her throat.

"Sansa, what on earth are you doing here with that man?" she asked, in a scandalized whispered.

Sansa felt Jaime tense, and she squeezed his hand. She wasn't backing down. She'd finally found a love that was worthy of herself, and she wouldn't let her parents ruin this for them.

"Mom, Dad, I think we need to talk," Sansa said, stepping forward into a formal sitting room that was rarely used but always lit – just in case.

Sansa took the loveseat, making it so that she and Jaime were close – the legs touching and hands clasped as she waited for her parents to join them. She could hear the confused whispering in the hallway, and Jaime snorted, shaking his head.

"I guess we can assume that Robert has given his version of events," Jaime murmured into her ear.

Sansa gave an inelegant snort. "Yup."

"Are you sure about this?" Jaime asked, eyes intense.

Sansa leaned forward and kissed him hard. "Nevermore sure, my love."

He grinned, and she knew he would be by her side, no matter how awkward this got.

Her father's cough had Sansa pulling back, but only slightly from Jaime, as her parents stood there gaping at the two of them.

It was hard to imagine that she was a twenty-eight-year-old divorcee that had buried a child by the way they were looking at her.

Sansa wished she could say she'd expected something different. But given everything that had happened between them and the fact that her father was supposedly supporting Robert and his bid for president, she wasn't surprised in the least.

Sansa felt Jaime's hand on her back before he rose, smiling at her parents, trying to disarm a tense situation.

"Well, now, I can imagine this comes as a bit of a shock, seeing me here with Sansa. But I want you to know, I love your daughter."

Both Ned and Catelyn exchanged worried looks, basically ignoring Jaime and staring at her.

"Sansa, you were vulnerable when you went to Skene," her mother started to say, irking Sansa.

"No, Mom, I wasn't vulnerable. I was grieving."

Neither one of her parents had anything to say to that, and Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose before rising to slip her hand into Jaime's and stand by her guy.

"Look, I know you've probably heard awful things about Jaime. Some of his choices were, well, to be honest, they were awful. But he's not the man the media painted him to be. He's not the man that most of us think he is. He's one of the main reasons I can stand here, before you, and say, I'm finding my way forward. I'm happier. I'm in love. I have a future, and I have that because of this man."

Sansa saw her mother nod slowly, assessing them, worrying her lip. No matter how scandalous Jaime's behaviour had been, there was no denying the man was the son of Tywin Lannister – the wealthiest man in Westeros. For someone like Catelyn Tully Stark, the name Lannister meant something.

Her father, fully immersed in the North, was less fussed and impressed with southern blue blood families, but Sansa's mother would know that Jaime wasn't easily dismissed.

Not that Sansa gave single care about any of that. She didn't want to get mired in the muck of the mainland. Their life was decidedly NOT here and NOT this.

"Your ages …" Catelyn started to say, and Jaime wiggled his eyebrows at Sansa.

"I'm forty-six, Mrs. Stark, and never been married. I have no children. I have a good job. I made detective at thirty, in one of the most wretched places in Westeros, and the police cleared my name in any wrongdoing a few years back. I'm now Chief of Police on Skene, a position I hold with great respect and admiration. I have a healthy bank account," Sansa snickered at Jaime's understatement, "And I am committed to your daughter. I love your daughter. She is an incredible woman – one of the strongest people I've ever met in my entire life."

Neither Ned nor Catelyn knew quite what to say to that, her father frowning. Ned still wouldn't look at Jaime, which started to really frustrate Sansa, her father treating Jaime like he didn't exist.

"Sansa, your Uncle Robert…"

"Dad, stop. Please," Sansa said, her voice firm.

Ned startled a bit and assessed her as if realizing she wasn't the broken woman she had been at Christmastime. She was something new.

"No matter the choices Jaime made, Robert Baratheon is a vile man and a worse politician. Please do not get me started on him, Dad. In fact, I have some questions for you, and what the heck you're thinking endorsing a man like that!" Sansa said, clearly voicing her displeasure.

"Sansa, manners!" Catelyn scolded, shocked by her outburst.

Sansa snorted. "Mother, we both know that Robert Baratheon is a pig. He's been cheating on his wife for years. Their marriage is political, nothing more. Not to mention the numerous women Robert has been associate with, the rumours of domestic violence, the payoffs. He's not worthy of the position he holds."

"Is that how you justify what Jaime did? Vows are scared," Ned accused hotly.

For his part, Jaime's spine straightened as he looked Ned Stark in the eyes. "I make no excuses for my choices and my role in that entire affair, Ned. It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. _We_ were wrong. I could tell you there is more to the story, but that is neither here nor there. I should have never gotten involved with Cersei Baratheon after she married Robert."

Jaime paused and looked to Sansa, who gave him a nod, proud of him.

"But, for what it's worth, I did love her. For me, it wasn't a lark. I wasn't playing a game. It almost cost me everything, and for a long time, I thought I'd lost out on any chance at finding someone to love me, sins and all. Then I met your daughter, and she … well, she's everything."

Sansa saw her mother soften, and even her father looked less sure. There was no mistaking how heartfelt Jaime's words were.

"Oh Jaime, you deserve love, as much as any of us."

"So do you, my darling."

Jaime cupped her cheek, stroking softly, and when Sansa turned back, she saw her Mom's eyes were suspiciously bright as Cat clutched at Ned's hand. That was one thing that Sansa always admired about her parents – how much they supported one another.

"And Ben?" Ned asked quietly. There was no mistaking how much her family loved her son.

Sansa sucked in a breath. Even here, in a room that they hardly used, her parents had his photo proudly displayed.

"Jaime knows about Ben, Dad."

Catelyn looked at Ned, and they communicated silently, as two people who had been married for years and knew one another could.

Catelyn nodded, sniffling a bit.

"Alright, then, well, welcome to Winterfell Jaime. I'm sure you can understand; we'll all need some time to adjust. Sansa wasn't exactly forthcoming with bringing a plus one this weekend."

Her father still didn't look happy. Sansa dropped Jaime's hand and stepped closer to her Dad.

"He's helped me so much, Dad. He challenges me and supports me. He lets me grieve Ben, and he doesn't try to fix me. He's been so good to me – patient and kind and tough on me when I needed it. He's made mistakes, Dad, but he's a good man. He loves me."

Ned sighed and reached for Sansa, pulling her in for a hug. She willingly went, and suddenly Catelyn was there as well.

"We've been so worried about you, Sansa," her father said gruffly. "Your pain was so great, and none of us could help. We knew we were just making it worse."

She sobbed a bit, shaking, knowing it was true.

"I know, Daddy. But he makes me happy," she said, her voice muffled against her Dad's chest. She felt her Dad's sigh but knew he had softened towards Jaime.

"Well, then I can give him a chance," her father finally said, sighing. There were still many things to discuss. They hadn't addressed the entire Robert issue, and Sansa knew her father still had his reservations about Jaime. But, for now, things were settled.

As Sansa stepped back from her parents, her Mom smiled tentatively at Jaime and then swept them out of the room and into the heart of Winterfell, the massive family room/dining room/kitchen area. The Starks might be the pre-eminent family in the North, but they weren't quite as formal as some might expect.

Tonight was for family, which meant that all the Starks had already gathered everyone in the great room.

Arya was sitting at the kitchen island, typing furiously on her laptop. At twenty-six, Sansa knew it was crunch time for her sister when it came to her exams for her MBA, and Sansa couldn't wait to tell her all about their meeting with Tywin.

Bran, who was twenty-three, and Ric, twenty-one, were on a couch, arguing over a playoff hockey game that they had on the big television that dominated the room.

Robb, thirty, was standing at the kitchen stove beside a pregnant Margaery, who at twenty-nine, looked at Sansa's oldest brother with an expression of both love and exasperation.

None of her siblings knew she was there at first, and Sansa felt Jaime squeeze her hand. Hard. He knew how difficult it was for her to be here – to see Robb and Marg and the new life they were going to welcome into the Stark family shortly. No matter how logical Sansa tried to be, it felt like this new grandchild was replacing Ben.

Sansa shuddered and turned into Jaime, feeling his arms come up and cradle her close as he stroked her back.

"I'm here, love," he said quietly as she tried to pull herself together. She didn't want to feel like this – she wanted to be happy for Marg and Robb.

Taking one last deep breath, Sansa nodded, drawing strength from Jaime. This was only for the weekend, and then they'd be back on Skene. She didn't have to stay in Wintertown and watch Marg's baby do all the things that Benny had. She wasn't staying here. She could heal from afar and one day, when she was ready, be the aunt she wanted to be.

"Hi," Sansa finally said, as everyone almost stopped what they were doing instantaneously and looked at her.

Arya and Ric let out happy squeals and then raced towards Sansa, eager and excited to see her. Sansa braced for impact as they both crashed into her, hugging her hard.

When they finally parted, Arya let out a whistle while checking out Jaime, who hovered for lack of a better term. Sansa knew her guy was worried about her.

"So, the Golden Lion is real, and he's here, with my sister."

Arya was blatantly assessing Jaime, who gave her one of his customary smirks.

"Will I win any points with you if I tell you I've bragged you up to my father? I believe the words ‘coveted internship’ might have been used," Jaime said.

"Shut the front door!" Arya yelled, punching Jaime on the shoulder. He rubbed it, clearly impressed with her sister's might.

"Well, I'm not quite sure what that means, but tomorrow night, he'll be waiting to meet you," Jaime said, glancing at Sansa, who was trying hard not to laugh. She could only imagine what Tywin might think of Arya Stark. It would do the Great Lion a world of good to have someone like her sister in his life.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jaime Lannister," Sansa said.

Ric, who was almost bouncing in front of them, shook Jaime's hand enthusiastically, making Jaime grin. Bran gave them both a quirky little smile as Ned and Cat stood back, watching.

Finally, Sansa glanced over at Robb and Marg. Robb had stilled, looking at Sansa as he put his hand on Marg's back, and Sansa knew it was his way of being there for his wife.

 _As he should_ , Sansa thought.

Marg sent Sansa a little smile as if testing the waters, and Sansa smiled back. Then Marg gave her a thumbs up and mouthed, "He's hot," making Sansa's smile all the more genuine. Shuddering out a breath, Sansa knew she could do this.

"I know, right?"

"Definitely a step up from Harry the Horrible," Marg said, finally letting go of Robb and coming over them.

"Hi Jaime, I'm Marg, Robb's wife," she said and then looked to Sansa.

Sansa could tell Marg wanted a hug but wasn't quite sure. Something settled in Sansa, seeing how careful Marg was being, and it was the easiest thing in the world to open her arms and hug her friend and sister-in-law.

As Jaime said, things in her life were bittersweet. She was happy for Robb and Marg and their baby, her niece. But Sansa wouldn't lie and say it wasn't hard as well. It was just what her life was, and she felt Jaime's hand on her back, offering her his silent support. It helped that he was here – that he got it, got her.

Sansa felt Marg shudder and then let out a little sob as she clung to Sansa. Sansa rocked her friend, rubbing a hand down her back.

"It's so good to see you, San," Marg finally said.

"You're looking good."

Marg rolled her watery eyes, gesturing to her belly. "I'm huge."

"You're gorgeous," Robb told his wife, finally joining them. His expression was guarded as he looked at both Sansa and Jaime as if unsure about the entire situation.

"Hello. I'm Jaime," her lover said, holding out his hand.

Robb shook it, introducing himself before his eyes settled on Sansa.

"Hey, big brother," she said, feeling her heartache for all of them.

"Hey, San."

It hurt that Ben wasn't here to be the eldest cousin to Robb's baby girl. Then unable to help herself, Sansa all but threw herself into Robb's arms as he hugged her hard. They just stood there for a time, holding one another.

"Thanks for coming. Marg's been missing you," Robb told Sansa.

A few moments later, Ned cleared his throat and asked for drink orders as Sansa went to help her mother and Marg with dinner. There were still awkward moments, but it was helped by having Skene to talk about. Like they had with Jaime's father, Sansa's family seemed to enjoy hearing about their life there. Buttercup, the puffins, the people. More than one Stark expressed interest in coming to visit, and for the first time, Sansa could honestly say she'd welcome that.

Not in their current cottage – it was more than apparent that they'd need a bigger place given the number of visitors they were sure to have. But as Sansa had said, they had time to make their dreams come true.

It was after dinner when Catelyn produced a lovely berry crumble when things took a turn. Her mother, whose hands were almost shaking, cleared her throat, so everyone looked at her.

"Yes, well, this is awkward, but I must share something with you, Sansa, so that you're not caught unaware," Cat began.

Sansa reached for Jaime's hand. So far, the night had been far better than Sansa had anticipated, but now, dread formed.

"What is it?"

"You have to understand, you hadn't committed to coming, so when my dear friend Petyr asked if Harry could attend this event with him for networking purposes, I didn't see the harm."

All five Stark siblings gaped at the mother, hardly daring to believe what Catelyn had just said.

"You're letting that douchesac come to our family's event?" Arya all but screeched.

"Arya, please!" her mother scolded, wringing her hands. "I didn't think Sansa was going to leave her island, and it has been years since she's done something like this. And Petyr insisted, especially when Harry learned Tywin Lannister would be here."

Jaime snorted. "If you think my father will want anything to do with a man that all but abandoned his sick child and then cheated on his grieving wife, you do not know my father."

Ned glared, resting a hand on his wife's back.

"We didn't know the two of you were coming, as you didn't tell anyone. The support of a man like Littlefinger is crucial for Robert's success."

Jaime gave a disgusted snort as Sansa's mind raced.

"Is he bringing the woman he was sleeping with when he broke his marriage vows to me? Or is that even too much for him?"

Catelyn paled and looked to Ned. "I didn't…. I didn't think to ask."

Robb shook his head. "You didn't think to ask? Mom, I know things have been tense with Sansa, but we all know what Harry did to her. I don't understand."

"I'm sorry!" Catelyn cried, now all but shaking, and Sansa took a deep breath.

Rising, she went to her parents, resting a hand on her mother's back. Things had been difficult between her and her mother, but Catelyn wasn't a mean person in her heart. She wasn't a bad person. And she had an odd soft spot for her old friend Petyr Baelish. It wouldn't have occurred to Catelyn to say no to him, especially with Sansa not committing to coming to this event.

"We'll deal with it," Sansa said, giving her Mom a tight little smile. Sansa couldn't say she was pleased, but she was just as much at fault.

Suddenly tired, Sansa felt like she was stretched too thin. There had been some good progress with her family tonight. Still, adding Harry into the mix with Cersei and Robert, not to mention the fact that they hadn't even touched upon her father's political aspirations and associations, Sansa was exhausted.

"But Sansa," Arya began as Sansa shook her head.

"No. Mom's right, Arya. No one knew that I was dating Jaime. And no one knew that we were coming to this event. Mom and Dad did what they thought was right. I know it wasn't to hurt me."

Sansa saw the surprise in her father's eyes as Ned coughed. "Thank you, Sansa."

Sansa sighed. "Having said that, I'm sorry, but I'm just done. Tonight was good, but I'm tired. If it's all the same to you, Jaime and I are going to go."

"If you give me one moment," Ned said, and Sansa turned to Jaime, who came and stood beside her. Standing beside his wife, Sansa knew what was coming.

Ned reached for Catelyn's hand and then gazed at his children.

"As you might have guessed or heard, as the rumour mill seems to be rampant, the reason we've decided to host such an event is to kick off my own campaign for office. Robert's support, along with others in Westeros, will go a long way to boosting my campaign."

Ned's announcement was met with lukewarm support, as none of the Stark siblings really knew what to say. When her father turned to her, Sansa gave a sad shake of her head.

"Dad, Robert is not a man you want to be associated with. But" Sansa said, as Ned opened his mouth, "I can't talk about this anymore tonight. Perhaps tomorrow or Sunday. For now, let's just take a breather."

Her parents nodded, and soon enough, Sansa found herself back in the car with Jaime. As they drove away from Winterfell, she couldn't help but let out a hysterical little laugh.

"Oh, gods, who would have thought that your father would be the easier parent in this relationship."

Jaime's laugh was rich and deep as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He wiggled his eyebrows, and fierce love for this man surged through Sansa.

"The gala of exes," he said.

Sansa snorted and levelled a look at him.

"We could skip it. Head back to Skene," she said, a note of hopefulness in her voice.

Jaime gave a thoughtful nod.

"We could. And if that's what you'd like, or if you'd like me to whisk you away, to anywhere else, you simply have to say the word, and I'll make the arrangements."

Sansa knew he would. He had the means, the ability to do just that. More, he would do that. For her.

"But?"

His smile was full of empathic knowing. "But I think this is a sign. A chance to put them behind us, once and for all. To deal with them and then let them go, so they cannot hurt us anymore."

They pulled into the hotel, and Jaime cut the engine. Sansa unbuckled her belt and leaned over to kiss Jaime hard.

"You are the very best man, Jaime Lannister. I would be honoured to have you by my side tomorrow night at the gala of our past mistakes."

"Ahh darling, there is nowhere else I'd rather be."

Sansa grinned. "Once more into the fray, and then we go home, Jaime. We go home to Skene. We make things right with our friends. We plan our life and build a home to welcome our families to Skene. We live."

His green eyes blazed. "Once more, and then we go home, my love."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the drama we’ve been waiting for, the awful people, well it’s all here. So we can all focus our need for that on those who deserve it at the gala event which is chapter 27!


End file.
